


The Missing Fourth Leaf

by Ailette



Series: Clover Series [2]
Category: Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-10
Updated: 2008-12-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows Living in Clover; Tony and Cap meet again in the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Why is it always potatoes with you?” Tony stared at the hash browns on his plate in disgust. It just wasn’t right to eat something like that for breakfast. _Every day_. As if it wasn’t enough that Steve made him eat something at this hour, no, it had to be this.   
  
“Potatoes are the easiest to get at the moment. And what’s wrong with them? You liked them before.” Tony just shot him a dark look and Steve sighed. “Alright then, go back to not eating in the morning. But you will have to eat at least twice a day.”    
  
“You are such a mother hen, you know that?”   
  
“It’s why you love me,” Steve replied easily, waggling his eyebrows.    
  
“Of course. That and your fabulous potato dishes,” Tony snorted.    
  
Taking Tony’s plate over to his side of the table to finish the half-eaten meal, Steve used his feet to pull at the legs of Tony’s chair simultaneously, bringing him closer. It would have been a little more romantic, Tony thought, if the damn thing hadn’t creaked as much. As it was, his knees were now touching Steve’s and the odd angle of the wooden chair made it impossible for him to get up without crawling over Steve. He didn’t want to get up, but he still rose from his seat. Steve looked disappointed for a second, but only until Tony settled down in his lap again, one leg on each side of him.    
  
“Can I have something else for breakfast?” Tony grinned, folding his arms around his lover’s neck and slowly inching closer until his nose was brushing the tip of Steve’s.    
  
“That depends,” Steve said, not moving, just staring intensely into Tony’s dark eyes. “on what you have in mind.”   
  
“Well, I saw this gorgeous brunette on the street the other day when I was dressing in front of the bedroom window…”   
  
Steve threw his head back a little and laughed, playfully swatting Tony on the arm. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go outside,” he growled, the amusement in his tone clearly ruining the threat.   
  
Tony’s grin grew wider as he closed the gap between them by bringing his mouth to Steve’s. “That’s okay. Everything I want right now is right here.”   


  
***

Everything he dreaded right now was just a door away from him. Tony’s hand lay motionless on the golden door handle, the man himself standing there, not sure what to do next. They had found Captain America – _Steve_ – earlier today. He still couldn’t believe it. The man he had fallen in love with such a long time ago – _only months ago_ – was here. Back from the dead, out of the ice, tested for and with everything they had.   
  
He had excused himself as soon as the circumstances allowed it, leaving the examination to Ant-Man. It was hard to think as Iron Man. Determined to give nothing away in front of his fellow Avengers, he’d behaved as it must have been expected; and really, it hadn’t been hard to act surprised. Everything considered, he might have been the most surprised of them all, unable to do anything but react. After he’d doffed the armor and stuffed it back into his suitcase, he’d tried to hastily scribble down a note. He had to throw about a dozen of them away, before he realized hasty notes wouldn’t do. At first, he hadn’t been able to decide what to write. The message had to contain so much; telling Steve he was here, how he felt, what they would do now… In the end it was a simple sentence, revealing nothing to a third party but enough to let Steve know he would be coming.   
  
_Welcome back, Cap. Tony Stark_  
  
Slipping it into the room with the best view over the garden, together with the shield, had been a strangely exciting act. It was one thing to face Steve as Iron Man, anonymously, but a completely different one as Tony Stark; armed with nothing but his latest business suit. His hands had been shaking and he’d jumped when Jarvis knocked on the door, his arms full with clothes.   
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Sorry, Jarvis. I just wanted to check the… um… books.”  
  
Jarvis inclined his head in a way that reminded Tony that his butler had known him since he was born, and that the gesture was his silent way of saying, _Master Stark, it is obvious to me that you’re lying, but I’ll pretend otherwise_. _For now_. Tony ducked his head a little, the habit a remnant of his childhood, and left the room.  
  
In the present, Tony was inhaling deeply, continuing to stare at the wood door in front of him. He still wasn’t sure what he would say. What he _should_ say. He hadn’t forgiven what Steve had done, but the feeling of betrayal had been mostly replaced by an overwhelming giddiness, leaving his thoughts and emotions unbalanced. A part of him wanted to burst in, kiss Steve and just forget everything around them, continuing their happiness as if nothing had ever happened. Another at least equal, part of him wanted to go in there and yell at his old lover, shake him and ask what the hell he’d been thinking, if he had any idea what he had done to him or how he’d hurt him.   
  
He knocked at the door, forcing himself to relax before he opened it and entered. “Hey there, Cap,” he said and cursed himself for smiling. He’d slipped into the safe routine of business man Tony Stark without thinking about it. Now condemned to keep up the casualness, he leaned against the door frame, forcing his arms to cross in a non-threatening manner.  
  
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bench, his fingers absently stroking over the edge of his shield, gaze distant on the black screen of the TV. He looked oddly at home with the military green shorts and t-shirt and the bare feet, while at the same time seeming completely out of place amongst the modern technology and pompous furniture around him. The little yellow post-it with Tony’s shaky writing was lying behind him, standing out against the deep scarlet of the bedspread. “I see you’ve read the note,” Tony remarked redundantly, nodding towards it as the man startled slightly at his greeting.  
  
Something lightened up in Steve’s face. “Oh, yes. Your note. Thanks.” He looked around sheepishly, obviously looking for the right words. “And thanks for everything else, too, I suppose. Jarvis told me you are financing the Avengers and that this is your house. Is it really alright for me to stay here?”  
  
Tony frowned slightly. What was Steve playing at? “Of course. I left the mansion to the Avengers, every member and friend is welcome to live here.”  
  
Steve nodded, looking grateful. “You’re a generous man, Mr. Stark.”  
  
Tony flinched at the formal use of his name. “Tony. Please call me Tony.”  
  
“Alright.” The smile was polite, but distant. There was no warmth in it, just a fleeting gesture, appropriate to the situation. As he noticed Tony’s wide eyes, he added, “Is there something wrong?”  
  
“No,” Tony took a step back, physically leaving the room and adding distance between himself and his former lover. He understood. Living in the moment. Hadn’t he already understood the meaning behind those words when he’d been banished back into his own time? Obviously not. _Stupid. Stupid_. Making the same mistake twice. “I have to get back to work.” The mask was cracking around him and he whirled around, walking down the corridor as fast as he could without it looking like he was fleeing. Breathing heavily, he reached the stairs, running down now that he was out of sight, not seeing the worried look Jarvis sent him as he ran past him to get to the garage. Somewhere safe.   
  


***

Steve was still staring perplexed at the left-open door. Carefully leaning his shield against the bench he got up to close it -- searching the corridor before he did so -- but his visitor wasn’t on this floor anymore. He walked over to the window, already aware that he would be able to see neither the gate nor the public entrance. This had been weird. Even if he considered all the things that had happened today, it was still weird.   
  
This man… This Tony Stark. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been missing something in their short conversation; that he was missing something about the whole man. He seemed oddly… familiar. He’d been happy about the note, seeing it as a nice gesture, but nothing more. The name hadn’t rung any bells as he’d read it, but when Mr. Stark – _Tony_ – had entered the room something… something… He rubbed at his temples, trying to sooth the oncoming headache.   
  
Those eyes. Hurt. He knew that expression, knew those eyes, knew—but no. He couldn’t have known Tony. He was sixty years in the future from his point of view. And no matter how advanced science might be today, there was simply no way Tony was eighty years old. It was hard to put his finger on it, but he just didn’t seem that old. No, he seemed to be around Steve’s age, maybe a little younger. It was different from Jarvis who clearly was older than him. No, people still looked their age. He couldn’t have known Tony. As if to enforce this realization, he nodded to himself, eventually leaning his forehead against the cool glass. Maybe he’d known one of Tony’s ancestors? Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he’d heard the name “Stark” before. But where?  
  
The throbbing in his skull grew more insistent and Steve sighed, letting go of this train of thought. It wouldn’t yield any results anyway. He couldn’t remember a lot of things when he tried to consciously recall them. Did he have siblings? He could see the faces of his parents when he concentrated, but their home was a blur. The neighbors had had a dog. Did he like dogs? He tried to remember Bucky, but he just heard him shouting an affirmation, his voice cut off by an explosion. Hastily opening his eyes again, he stared down into the garden. Gardens in the backyard were nice. For a moment he could smell the grass around him, a faint sweet taste in his mouth; then it was gone again. There was a shelf filled with books to his left. Maybe reading was a good idea. It would get his mind off these things; maybe let him remember when he wasn’t actually trying to. And it couldn’t be worse than the television. At least he hoped his beloved books hadn’t changed as much as the other media. As he let his eyes wander over the bindings, he found himself smiling. They all were familiar, a lot of them translations of German books he’d read during the war. Randomly he pulled out a thin black one. The title wasn’t written on the spine, so he had to turn it first in order to read it. _Effi Briest_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/24932.html)  
> Beta: freakydarling  
> A/N: Second and also the shortest chapter (not technically, but, well, you'll see). The third one is the longest one though, so I guess that'll make up for it. :) The second chapter takes place roughly one year after the first one ended. Tony suffered through his alcoholism and no one knows he's Iron Man (except for Pepper, Happy and Rhodey). Everything else is in the fic (and even these are pretty much in there); just to clarify. ;)

“I don’t see why I can’t go alone. It’s just a couple of meetings—” Tony protested.

 

Pepper didn’t look inclined to agree with him any time soon. “You have been kidnapped, framed for murder, someone tried to take over your company and you fell into the bottle. And those are just the official reasons! You’ve avoided going on this trip for so long and with so many excuses, if there’s no one going with you, I don’t trust you to actually go there!”

 

“But—”

 

“No! This is important. You fund the Avengers and you have visited nearly every country to establish a possible collaboration. The Germans are starting to complain and you have no logical reason not to go,” Pepper said, poking her finger against his chest. He didn’t actually _feel_ it, but she did seem quite intimidating.

 

He sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright. I’ll go. But I’m going on my own.”

 

Pepper folded her arms. “No, you’re not. After everything that’s happened lately, you are not going anywhere alone. One of the Avengers is going to accompany you. It’s Avenger’s business after all.”

 

“You realize I actually _am_ an Avenger and can just—”

 

“No. No Iron Man on this trip. You stay away from that armor until you get back.” Tony felt he should point out that she could hardly keep him from his armor, and that she really had no right to do that, but… “I’m going to resign if you don it. And I’ll take Happy with me. And Rhodey.”

 

“Who?” he asked weakly, deliberately letting his head hang in defeat.

 

Pepper beamed in triumph. “Captain America.” Surprised at the sudden rigidness in her boss’s form and the way his head snapped back up at her, she took a step back. “I—I’m sorry,” she heard herself stammering without thinking. It wasn’t a secret Tony didn’t get along with Cap well, but as Iron Man he’d worked with him a lot and there never seemed to be a problem. “He’s the only one available and… really, Tony, he’s not that bad. Just try to get along with him for once. Please?”

 

For a moment, Tony wanted to explain to her exactly why he would under no circumstances go anywhere in his civilian identity with Steve Rogers, and how he was even worse than Pepper could possibly imagine. But when he opened his mouth, he found himself at a loss for words. “Did he already agree to this?” There was always the hope that—

 

“Yes. He’s on his way over here,” she affirmed ruefully.

 

“Fine. I’ll get my things, then.” Without another word, Tony left his secretary standing in the office, ignoring the worried glance she was sending after him. It would look odd if he sent Cap away again. There were already rumors about how Tony Stark never seemed to appear anywhere with Captain America at the same time, while there had been at least a dozen pictures taken with every other member at one fundraiser or another.

 

He’d played this game for nearly a year now, successfully avoiding Steve as Tony Stark. He had to work with him as Iron Man of course, and thankfully it wasn’t as difficult as he’d suspected it might be. The armor was more than just a physical protection; it also protected him from some of the weaknesses Tony Stark had, making him a better person, a different person. It still wasn’t exactly pleasant to be around Cap this way, but he could bear it and didn’t have to worry about giving anything away in his expressions.

 

Why couldn’t he just be Iron Man all the time?

*** 

Steve had the sinking feeling this wouldn’t go over well. He’d barely set foot in the private jet when Tony was already glaring at him. For a second he thought he should’ve removed his boots before boarding, and was about to bent down to correct his mistake when he realized Tony still had his shoes on. Had to be something else then.

 

He smiled his friendliest non-threatening smile at the annoyed looking business man, but only got a curt nod in response before Tony turned to look out the window as if Steve’s presence wasn’t worth more than a couple of seconds of his attention. The smile on his face went rather stiff. Whatever had he been thinking when he accepted to go along on this trip? Ms. Potts had suggested it was for Tony’s safety after the recent attacks, and also, with a little more biting tone, didn’t he want to do such a little thing for the man who’d let him live in his house for nearly a year now? It was hard to say no after that.

 

As he sat down opposite his travelling companion, he found himself wondering once again what he’d ever done to the man. They had only ever really talked on the day of Steve’s ‘arrival,’ and even then it had been a short and very superficial conversation. If one could call that a conversation at all. Of course, Tony Stark was at the mansion a lot. He slipped in and out at the most curious times, mostly vanishing into the garage or talking to Jarvis. Sure, he’d seen him speaking with some of the other Avengers, but whenever he turned around a corner to find him deep in conversation he suddenly ended it with a flippant excuse, disappearing off to somewhere only he knew; leaving a slightly annoyed and very confused hero behind. Or two, really.

 

Since Tony still seemed to be focused on something only he could see on the grey asphalt several feet beneath them, he used the chance to properly take the man in. The black hair had become a little shorter since he’d last seen him, gleaming dark blue where emblazed by light. The moustache had transformed into a thin goatee, making him look just the slightest bit ominous. He looked oddly fragile and aloof at the same time, the finely tailored navy blue suit only underlining the impression.

 

With a minor start Steve noticed the ground was moving outside of the window. Modern planes were exactly that: _modern_ , Steve had slowly gotten used to that, but usually one still felt when they’d started moving, right? Judging by Tony’s unchanged expression, maybe not. Then again, this was a private jet. Tony’s private jet, so most likely the man was used to feeling nothing. But something about his poise changed when they ascended from the safe ground.

 

“You don’t like flying this way,” he remarked absently, briefly wondering where this knowledge had hailed from and pinching the bridge of his nose against the sharp sting of pain in his temple. Maybe he’d read it in one of the many interviews Tony had given?

 

If possible, Tony went even stiffer. His eyes blazing with something close to unadorned anger when he looked at Steve. “That’s right,” he said dryly and turned back to the view outside the plane with a visible effort.

 

There. Again. What had just happened? He’d tried to make small talk and Tony all but pierced him with his eyes. As the saying went, if looks could kill… He’d probably lost every chance of an afterlife. It had to be one of those newfangled things he didn’t get. Back in his time, he’d sometimes read books about the future. A future where people didn’t have emotions anymore, were flying around in cars, lived with robots, had hearts of stone… He remembered talking to Nick about this: how different the future was from everything he’d ever imagined, and yet also completely different from those futuristic books that suddenly were called classics.

 

“We _do_ have flying cars here,” SHIELD’s director had contributed helpfully.

 

Oh, say can you see,  
By the dawn's early light,  
What so proudly we hailed  
At the twilight's last gleaming

 

Steve jumped at the sound of the anthem, looking around in surprise. Where did that come from?  
  
_Whose broad stripes and bright stars,_  
Through the perilous fight

 

He looked over at Tony, who stared at him in turn. “The National Anthem? Seriously?” he snorted. “You’re a walking cliché.”  
  
_O'er the ramparts we watched_  
Were so gallantly streaming?

 

“What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?” To his surprise, Tony leaned forward and reached into his jacket. He had heard rumors about Tony Stark being a sassy playboy, but this was really too forward. He felt his cheeks heating.  
  
And the rockets' red glare,  
The bombs bursting in air

 

As he was about to protest, Tony suddenly fished something out of the jacket’s inside pocket, holding it out to him as he leaned back in his seat as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Gave proof through the night  
That our flag was still there.

 

When Steve didn’t move to take the little black thing, he sighed exasperatedly. “Your cell. Someone is calling you.”   
  
_O, say, does that_  
Star-Spangled Banner yet wave

 

Now looking really unnerved, he flapped it open and pressed it into Steve’s hand. “Press the green button and hold it like a normal telephone.”  
  
_O'er the land of the free_  
And the home of the brave

 

Steve did as he was told, cautiously holding it to his ear. “Hello?”

 

“Mr. Rogers, I’m glad you figured out how to take a call,” a woman’s voice remarked dryly. She must have waited pretty long. “Then again, I should’ve probably explained it before I gave it to you.”

 

“Ms. Potts?” So that was what she’d handed him earlier. _‘Just call if he does anything stupid.’_ made a lot more sense now.

 

“Yes. I just wanted to see if everything is alright?”

 

Steve nodded slowly before he remembered that she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” Across from him, Tony was furrowing his brows.

 

“So he’s behaving?”

 

“Um. Yes?” What kind of question was that?

 

A groan from the other end of the line. “He’s sulking, isn’t he? And most likely taking it out on you.”

 

Steve chose not to answer that.

 

“Give him the phone.” Wordlessly he handed the small telephone to Tony who took it without questions.

 

“What is it, Pep?” he greeted, much more enthusiastic than he’d been since Steve had boarded. Then his expression shifted, turning more and more to that of a scolded child.

 

“I’m not… You… What?” A pause followed in which Steve could hear the faint sound of Ms. Potts voice. Finally, Tony’s shoulders slumped a little and he said, “Okay. I’ll try. Bye.” Snapping the cell shut he blinked at it owlishly before giving it back.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered so quietly, Steve wasn’t sure he’d actually said it or just moved his lips for no reason. His only assurance was the contrite look on Tony’s face.

 

He smiled softly in return, trying–and failing–to look understanding. “’s okay.”

 

Steve wasn’t sure what Ms. Potts had said, but it changed the rest of the flight for him. Tony was still staring out of the window, but the air had somehow changed around them. The other man looked exhausted now, but no more openly hostile. He really hoped that was a good thing.


	3. Chapter 3

When they finally arrived at Munich Airport, Steve was surprised to find Tony still asleep. Granted, the flight was long and he, too, fell asleep somewhere along the way, but the landing had been rather turbulent. The pilot even apologized for the clear-air turbulence through the speaker. Tony slept right through it. Steve had the sneaking suspicion the man didn’t grant himself a whole lot of sleep (Ms. Potts had mentioned something along those lines when she’d told him what he’d have to do during this trip—it involved a surprising amount of “Make sure that Tony eats/sleeps/stays away from alcohol/drinks enough water/drinks not too much coffee”). The suspicion was strong enough to make him hesitant now whether he should wake Tony up.   


 

He didn’t look peaceful or childlike in his sleep. He looked more like a machine on stand-by, ready to whirr back to life as soon as someone pushed the right button, but for now only running the most basic programs in the background. The comparison seemed oddly fitting and Steve was glad Hank had taught him how to use a computer despite his protests—if only for this moment. All this new technology seemed unnecessary, if useful at times, like the little phone had proven earlier. Still, there wasn’t really anyone who insisted he use the stuff so he preferred to keep his distance.   


 

Feeling impertinent as he leaned forward, he softly shook Tony’s shoulder. They couldn’t stay on this plane forever, after all. Tony stirred and groaned mutedly as he opened his eyes a little, peeking up at Steve through long lashes. An inexplicable smile fell onto his lips and for a heartbeat he seemed to be radiating warmth.  


 

“You gotta go already?” he muttered softly, mischief coming awake in his eyes until he saw Steve’s confused expression and abruptly sat up straight in his seat. Running one hand over his face roughly, he sighed angrily. At whom, Steve didn’t know, but hoped to God it wasn’t him. “We’ve landed,” Tony observed the obvious and got up entirely. “So let’s get going. The hotel’s a bit out of the way and we’ll have to get a car first.”  


 

They spent the ride to the hotel in silence, both absently taking in the rain and gray clouds rushing by the windows. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement.   


 

“So… this isn’t where we’re supposed to go, is it?” Steve tried carefully.   


 

Tony opened his mouth before shutting it again and briefly massaging his temples. “No. We’re only staying here until tomorrow evening, then we’ll take the jet to  Paderborn . Most meetings and charity events will take place there; it’s only one I have to attend to here tomorrow morning.” Considering their previous encounters, this must have been the most words Tony Stark had wasted on him in such a short time. They were still clipped, but Steve could live with that. He just didn’t expect the man to voluntarily share any more.   


 

“Pepper told you what these meetings are for, right?” She had. But she’d been vague enough that Steve felt it justified to shake his head.   


 

“Since the Avengers were founded, there has been a lot of red tape to deal with. After you joined, we got the level A-1 priority status, but that’s obviously only valid in  America . It’s always problematic when the team is needed somewhere else. We get into space and the Russians get angry at us for not asking. We go and save the Prime Minister of Canada and they send a complaint about how we handled it. Basically, if we leave the border behind us, someone is going to get mad. So I travelled around a little, explaining what the Avengers do, making contracts and generally promoting the team.”  


 

Steve nodded slowly. He’d heard about all the paperwork that had to be done from Jarvis, he’d just never really made the connection to Tony. For him, Tony Stark was the guy who lived a ghost life in his own house, leaving it to strangers. The guy who invented an incredibly advanced suit of armor and let someone else wear it. The guy who paid the checks without giving anyone a reason for it. But seemingly, he was also the guy who invested a lot of work in the Avengers reputation and the easing of their missions.   


 

“I just haven’t been here yet,” Tony said, the words leaving his mouth only reluctantly. His eyes focused more intently on Steve as he continued, “You can probably imagine why.”  


 

As he didn’t answer, the edges of Tony’s mouth twitched upward in the bitter imitation of a smile and he turned back to the window. There was something about this man he just didn’t understand. Something that made the handsome features turn into an ugly sneer and the mouth vanish into a thin line. He needed to know what it was.  


 

***

The next morning was surprisingly nice. The sun had come out after Steve finished his breakfast, and made it possible to walk around a bit without the constant danger of drowning. He aimlessly sauntered through the little park on the other side of the hotel, waiting for Tony to come back from his meeting. He had excused himself as soon as they’d arrived yesterday, claiming to have to prepare for the presentation this morning. Their rooms were next to each other and the walls not very thick, so Steve had been able to hear the clicking of keys until he’d finally been able to find sleep. When the phone rang with his wake up call, Tony was already gone.  


 

Stretching luxuriously, he sat down on one of the many old benches, leaning back against the quietly creaking wood. The receptionist had promised to tell Tony his whereabouts as soon as he saw him. Relaxed, he watched the couples walking past him, sometimes with dogs, sometimes with small children. The occasional joggers all began to stare at him oddly after they saw him still sitting there after their third round. Steve didn’t mind. Slowly, the adults faded out of the park, only to be replaced by hordes of children, screaming and running down the path, excited to get home after school. There was something so careless about them, chatting enthusiastically with their friends that made Steve’s heart ache. When was the last time he’d talked to anyone like that?  


 

Sure, the Avengers were friends. But it was never careless when he talked to them. The Wasp and Giant-Man never paid full attention, one eye always out for the other. Thor and Jarvis were nice enough, but also always worried about something. The only one he really felt a connection to was Iron Man. But that seemed to be one-sided, since every time they sat down and just talked, the golden Avengers would suddenly jump up and vanish with the vaguest excuse. He missed Bucky. Good old Bucky, who’d always have an open ear for him, mocking him mercilessly about his latest crush or his clumsiness, while at the same time encouraging him to continue his fight, making him believe in himself with the smallest gestures.   


 

But Bucky was gone. Everyone was gone.  


 

“The receptionist stumbled all over himself to tell me to get here immediately and you’re just sitting here, doing nothing.”  


 

Slowly, he could feel the memories fade into the back of his mind, giving way to the dark figure standing before him. Today, he was in a deep red suit, the white shirt a stark contrast. Red was a far more fitting color than blue somehow, but neither could have concealed the stress etched into every muscle. The meeting must have been wearisome. Smiling far more securely than he actually felt, Steve stood up, making a move to touch Tony’s shoulder before he thought better of it and just grabbed the backpack from the bench instead.   


 

“The luggage is already back in the car so we’ve got some free time before our flight to Paderborn. I thought we should make a little excursion,” he stated, already moving towards the car. Tony eyed him and his backpack warily before he finally decided to follow, reluctance practically radiating of him.  


 

***

Tony looked rather perplexed as Steve opened the car’s door to reveal the airport behind him. What kind of excursion was this supposed to be? Gazing up at Steve, still refusing to get out of the car, he waited for an explanation. Steve just continued to look at him expectantly. If the man was a dog, he’d probably be waggling his tail right now. The thought of Steve being turned into a Golden retriever distracted him for a second, giving Steve the time to grasp his hand and lift him right out of his seat — thankfully without Tony’s head colliding with the metal doorframe.   


 

“Hey!” Tony protested belatedly as Steve continued to drag him forward, their hands still entwined. A few men in uniform hurried past them, running towards the grassy hill. Cobbles were pushed aside by their heavy boots, disturbing the otherwise peaceful path in the green. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

**** [ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/ailette/pic/0002gy1y/)   


Steve could hear the well-practiced furiousness in that voice and decided for now to ignore it, not letting go of the hand in his. “We are going to have a picnic,” he said firmly. “Ms. Potts asked me to look after you and make sure you don’t stress yourself out on this trip, so we’re going to relax now.” He probably shouldn’t have made that sound like an order, he thought ruefully, but when he carefully threw a glance behind him, he found Tony looking down at his feet, no longer resistant to being dragged. He must have hit a sore spot there.   


 

She’d told him about what had happened with Tony only reluctantly. But he was thankful for her doing so, because he otherwise would have never guessed the man was recovering from alcoholism. Every move he made was precise and controlled, purposeful. Like he was preserving his energy for more important things than unnecessary movements. He remembered his father, holding a bottle, making too wide gestures while talking, laughing too loud, crying too much. Joseph Rogers had been weak. Too weak.  


 

“Ow!” Tony abruptly dug his heels in behind him, trying to free his hand by force, with little luck.   


 

“What?” Steve reluctantly let go of Tony’s hand, staring at him in wonder. Only when Tony glared at him while rubbing his now free hand had he realized the tension in his own shoulders, spreading through his entire body. He must have squeezed Tony’s hand, but it couldn’t have been… _Oh. Super-Soldier-Serum_. Sometimes he wondered how he could ever forget about something as vital as that.   


 

“I’m sorry!” His hands were up in the air in front of him, palms out, signalling harmlessness. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he added, but it had the opposite of the desired effect; Tony’s face seemed to darken even more.   


 

Without another word he strode past him, but to Steve’s surprise he didn’t go back to the car but headed straight towards a flight of stairs set into the path, following it up the green hill Steve had thus far been leading him along. A couple of seconds passed before Steve had his thoughts in order again and started to jog after him. As he did so, the other visitors turned around, walking back to the parking lot. They all had the same annoyed look on their faces and were followed by the men in uniform. When he came to a halt a few feet away from Tony, there was no one else left up on the platform; just the two of them on the Viewing Hill. Other than the planes landing in the distance, there was no noise. In fact, the quiet was a little eerie.   


 

“What happened to all the people?” Steve asked hesitantly, not sure if he should talk to Tony just yet.   


 

“Those guys from the airport staff just chased them off when they saw me coming. One of them sent us Pepper’s regards.”  


 

It was a good thing he’d brought the guidebooks Pepper had pressed into his hands when she first told him about this trip. Some of the pages had a marker: little crosses pointing to the attractions Pepper had found useful for them, and had obviously made some calls for.   


 

“Why are there planes on this hill?” Tony asked suddenly, pointing to the platforms below them. Three smaller planes were scattered over the hill, all with little ladders in front of their entrance doors.  


 

“Oh. Those are historic planes the airport is exhibiting to the tourists. They thought it would go well on the Viewing Hill where you could watch the modern planes take off,” he paused, reconsidering his plans a little. “Would you like to go down there? I thought we could just eat something here, but I’d like to see them, too.”  


 

Tony simply gestured for him to lead on. As they stood next to the first of the planes, Tony noticed a change in Steve’s voice as he spoke, his hand gliding down the propeller as if he was caressing a long lost pet.   


 

“That’s a Douglas DC-3. It’s used mainly as cargo aircraft, but we’ve been flying in those a couple of times to get home or back to the front.” His fingers lingered for a moment before he suddenly turned around, a grin spreading on his face. “Let’s go and eat inside!”  


 

Tony wanted to argue that a) he wasn’t hungry, b) the personell would probably not like that, and c) he didn’t want to eat with Steve _anywhere_ , but Steve had already disappeared into the plane. Great. Sighing in defeat, he followed to find Steve already sitting on the floor and looking very pleased with himself as he spread the contents of his backpack on the light green blanket he was sitting on.   


 

As Steve looked up, he saw Tony frozen in the doorframe, staring at him in disbelief. This had to look silly, he thought to himself, glancing down at the food he’d prepared in the morning, now set out on colorful paper plates decorated all over with little dots. It had to be ridiculous to a serious business man as Stark. Crestfallen, he slumped his shoulders. He should have thought this through more carefully.   


 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he heard the tremor in Tony’s voice. At least he had the decency not to laugh out loud.  


 

“I just thought this would be… nice. You looked all stressed yesterday and I figured it wouldn’t be good for your current condition if you get into too much stress—”  


 

When he threw a glance toward Tony, he was surprised to see him still in the doorframe, but now leaning against it, holding himself upright with one arm and his head hanging forward, making it impossible for Steve to see his face. The tremor had gotten stronger when Tony spoke again.  


 

“Too much stress? You worry about me getting too much stress over a simple _meeting_? Didn’t it occur to you at least once that I might be stressed because of you?” The last sentence was more of a shout than anything else, as Tony threw his head back, eyes bright with pain and anger.   


 

And suddenly, something inside Steve just snapped. “If I am such a burden to you, then why didn’t you just tell me not to come? I just said yes because I thought we could make things right between us again—”  


 

“ _Make things right_?” Tony’s voice cracked the moment he began to speak, his eyes widening with something alarmingly close to insanity.   


 

Steve just continued to speak as if he didn’t see Tony cracking, as if he wasn’t aware the other man was about to break. It would only get worse if Tony continued as he was, suppressing something that couldn’t be contained. “And I can’t even say that, because I don’t know your reason for hating me. You just did, from the moment we first met and I have no idea _why_!” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down a little more, in contrast to Tony, who seemed more ready to break at every word he said.   


 

“I don’t get you, he continued his tirade. “I’ve never done anything to you, that I know of, but I must have done something or you wouldn’t be this way. It’s just—it’s so confusing in this time. There are things that just don’t make sense to me, and when I try to wrap my head around them I realize there is something else I don’t know, something else I don’t remember and I can’t freaking figure out what’s wrong in _this_ time when I’m still trying to figure out what happened in my own time!”  


 

Despite his best efforts, his voice had gained in volume as he spoken. He was breathing heavily when he finished, glaring at Tony, who looked utterly dumbfounded and thankfully not like a soon-to-be mental case anymore.   


 

“What are you talking about?” Careful, unwilling to grasp the meaning of what Steve had just said.  


 

“My memories are completely messed up,” Steve snapped, for now uncaring about the implications of this acknowledgement in front of someone else. “I can’t remember half of my life and then I’m supposed to just start a new one!”  


 

“You don’t remember half your life,” Tony echoed flatly, staring at him with blank eyes. Then his hand came up to cover his mouth, poorly masking the shock on his face. “Oh, my God. You don’t _remember_ ,” he said, as if it cleared up everything instead of making Steve’s situation infinitely more complicated.   


 

Steve wasn’t sure whether he felt like laughing or crying when he saw Tony sinking down on his knees, breaking out into a hysterical giggle. Instead, he just waited for him to calm down.   


 

When he finally did, the corners of his eyes were wet with tears, but his eyes… They looked different; as if they had just been unveiled, shining blue instead of the pained dark gray for the first time. It was evident one of them had to say something, but neither of them knew what it was.   


 

Instead, Tony just came over to Steve, lowering himself on the flashy blanket. His lips were curved slightly. It was by no stretch of imagination a smile, but something soft, neutral… new.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/25332.html)  
> Beta: freakydarling


	4. Chapter 4

On Saturday morning, Steve was surprised to be awoken by Tony’s insistent knocking at his door. Or their door, really. The hotel in which Ms. Potts had made reservations for them had several business apartments; they were staying in one of them. It consisted not only of _two_ bedrooms separated by said door, but a common living room, kitchenette and bathroom as well. So, he wasn’t surprised Tony was banging on the door to his bedroom. No, it was the hour at which Tony was knocking. Steve was used to getting up at times ‘normal people’ considered ungodly. Now, it was already way past nine.   


 

“I’m up, I’m up!” he mumbled angrily at the door, fully aware Tony couldn’t possibly hear him, and yet somehow annoyed that the knocking didn’t stop at his assurances. When he finally got to the door and opened it, Tony looked at him for a moment before bursting out into laughter.   


 

As much as Steve appreciated the change in atmosphere since his confession yesterday, he didn’t particularly appreciate someone laughing at him. Accordingly, he glared at his travelling companion; who at least stopped laughing after a bit, just looking very amused now.   


 

“Have you seen your hair?”   


 

Steve turned around to catch a glimpse of himself in the large mirror on the wardrobe and hastily patted his hair flat on his head. It must have been caused by some kind of static, since his hair didn’t usually stand this literally on end after getting up.   


 

He more or less forgave Tony for laughing at him when the other man presented a plate of waffles for breakfast. Tony was doing his best to be nice to Steve in general. He suggested a trip to the city for today, since the famous German folk festival ‘ _Libori_ ’ was beginning today.   


 

“I flipped through one of your guidebooks and saw it began today. It’s supposed to be really good, with two kilometers of kermis, a great selection of little restaurants at one point, and a market with antiques and clay products. There are also concerts and cabaret, so…”   


 

Steve didn’t need further convincing, the excitement Tony radiated was enough for him. He generally enjoyed the obvious changes in Tony, puzzling as they were. Ever since he’d admitted to his memory loss, it was like Tony had been replaced by an entirely different person. Not only was he what Steve would guess was ‘himself’ now, but he tried his best to make his past behavior up to Steve.   


 

As they strode along the alley beneath the big street, Tony stopped to look at the walls more closely. It was sprayed over with graffiti in all colors, reaching every small patch of the wall.   


 

“Do you think it was meant to look like this?”   


 

Steve smiled at the completely irrelevant question, happy Tony had opened up enough to just speak about what was currently going through his mind.   


 

“I guess,” he shrugged slightly before turning to one of the other pedestrians, swiftly switching to German.   


 

<Excuse me; do you happen to know if this wall was painted on purpose?>  


 

The man he’d asked looked at him like he’d just stopped him from saving the world, muttered something about ‘Blöde Amis!’ and took off again. Steve stared after him in shock.   


 

“Wow. That was… rude,” Tony observed helpfully, before turning to a small group of female students coming their way. “Hi. Do you speak English?” he asked, his smile dizzying. Steve shot him an uncertain glance. Tony couldn’t seriously assume everyone spoke English—   


 

The group nodded collectively, one of the girls taking a step forward and flipping her long blonde hair back. “I do. How can I help you?” Steve felt oddly satisfied at her thick accent.   


 

“My friend and I,” he gestured towards Steve at which some of the girls exchanged meaningful glances “were wondering about this wall.”  


 

The girl at the front nodded gravely, expression serious enough to share the secret to immortality. “Yes, the city council paid some local artists to paint it. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”   


 

Tony nodded, about to thank her and turn away again. She must have sensed this, Steve mused, as she immediately held out her hand and smiled at Tony. “My name is Natalie. I’m a student here. What are you and your... _friend_ … doing here?”   


 

“Oh, we’re just here on a business trip. Thought we’d look around a bit, since there’s this _Libori_ today.”  


 

“Oh, such a _coincidence_! I want to go there too with my good friend,” she turned around to look at the girls behind her, threw a quick glance at Steve and then turned back, using the motion to flip her hair back once more. Steve had the weird wish to see her bald. “Laura.” Laura immediately took a step forward and also offered Tony her hand, which he shook politely, sparing a smile for her, too. She almost melted at the attention. Steve unconsciously took a quick step forward, joining Tony at his side.   


 

And rightly so, since Natalie suddenly threw her hands into the air, letting a shrill laugh echo through the tunnel. “Oh, I know. Why don’t we go together? We can show you all the good places.”  


 

If Tony was surprised at the offer, he hid it well. But, for the sake of fairness, it had to be said that Tony didn’t have much of a choice when the girl just took his hand in one of her own and started to drag him behind her. For a good second, Steve just stared after them. Then he remembered Laura, who thankfully didn’t attempt to grab his hand and just smiled up at him shyly.   


 

***   


  
“And this, we call a ‘Topf,’” Natalie exclaimed proudly while pointing to the clay pot.   


 

Tony nodded, smile still in place. He asked a few questions, but Steve didn’t pay close attention. This whole _Libori_ had turned out to be a nightmare. Sure, the festivities themselves looked like fun, but their self-proclaimed guides (or just the annoyingly blonde one, since Laura still hadn’t uttered a word, only ever nodding to everything her friend said) made it an agonizing tour. Natalie pointed at the most obvious things, making them seem like they had just been invented. What did she think Americans cooked with? Their bare hands?  


 

“Ooooh, this must be so exciting for you. To be in  Germany , so far away from home,” she cooed in a compassionate voice. Steve felt like throwing up.   


 

“Actually, I’ve been—” Tony tried, only to be cut off by a shushing motion.  


 

“And our culture is so different from yours! We have restaurants here, not just McDonald’s!”  


 

It was beyond Steve how his travelling companion could endure this mind-numbing woman and even find the strength to continue his smile. Just in that moment, Tony slung his arm around the girl’s shoulder, steering her into the direction of the small Eiffel Tower hovering over dozens of booths.  


 

Inexplicable anger rose that little bit higher within him. It had to come from having to listen to that blonde for so long. Determined not to let her ruin his good mood any further, he turned to Laura.   


 

“So, how long have you known her?”  


 

The girl at his side narrowed her eyes at his question before she just shrugged and shook her head with an apologetic smile. _Huh?  
_

 

<Don’t you speak English?>  


 

<You speak German!> she said, tone disbelieving. Steve frowned.   


 

<Yes, I do. Why are you so surprised?>  


 

Laura shrugged a little. <Oh, it’s just, you know, all the soldiers never bothered.> Upon Steve’s questioning expression, she started in on a longer explanation. How the English soldiers stationed here refused to learn their language, living here and yet not adapting in the slightest. <I mean, it’s not like they were forced to come here, right? When they enlisted they must have known there was a good chance they’d be stationed here. After all, there are so many caserns in North Rhine Westphalia. And everywhere it’s the same. All you hear about them is that they’ve been drinking too much somewhere _again_ , or that they’ve beat someone up… What are they here for, anyway? The war has been over for so long!>  


 

Steve was torn between amazement at the sudden rant and the swirling he felt whenever he recalled the year. He opened his mouth to tell her off about just generalizing all soldiers and, _what did she know about the war anyway_? But then he caught a glimpse of Tony, still draped over Natalie, their eyes met for a brief moment and Steve just _had_ to get into a long and good conversation right then. So he asked about the consequences of the Second World War, claiming he didn’t know much about the German side of things (which was at least half true).   


 

Tony turned his head more and more often in the following hour, seeking something in Steve’s face in the beginning and finally just outright glaring at him.   


 

_ What? Surprised I can charm a girl, too?  
_

 

They’d made their way across the whole _Libori_ and come back to the booths when Steve’s attention was brought back to Tony. Natalie was dragging him towards the brightest booth, flaring with light and blown up cacti when Laura muttered,  


 

“Jedes mal das Gleiche.”

 

<Excuse me?>

 

Laura sighed in a long suffering manner. <Don’t tell her that I said this, but Natalie is a total slut. As soon as she finds someone good looking, she fills him up and vanishes with him. Only so she can later blame it on the alcohol.> She rolled her eyes in emphasis. <You haven’t told me where you learned German yet, though. It’s so antiquated and really beautiful… Steve?>  


 

But Steve wasn’t listening anymore. He turned his head back to the crowd in front of them, searching for Tony and the blonde. When he couldn’t see them, he took the first few steps toward the ‘Mexikanische Getränke’ booth where he’d last seen them. In a matter of seconds he burst into a run, no longer hearing the girl behind him shout his name. Damn. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention to Tony?   


 

Now in the middle of a group of drunken guys, he strained his head to look behind the giant beer barrel, but the alleyway was empty. All Ms. Potts had asked of him was to keep an eye on Tony; to watch over him and shield him from any temptation to drink—how could he have failed at such an easy task?  


 

Leaving the most crowded area behind him, Steve sprinted up the two large stone steps, squinting as one of the spotlights blinded him. If only Tony hadn’t fallen into the clutches of that spiteful woman, he would have never let him out of sight in front of so many booths filled to the brink with bottles of vodka, _Grashüpfer_ , Schnapps, beer, wine, scotch, Erdbeer Limes and whatever all that other stuff was. He shouldn’t have let something cloud his judgement as petty as jealo—  


 

“Tony!”   


 

The man stood a few feet away from their former guide who had a beer mug in each hand, shaking his head vigorously. With just a few more strides Steve was at his side, grabbed his hand and tugged him back, further away from that woman.   


 

“Nimm deine dreckigen Pfoten von ihm! Er hat schon jemanden!” He bit out with barely contained disgust, feeling a perverse satisfaction as she took a step back, mouth forming a little ‘o’ in outrage.   


 

“Let’s go,” he said and gripped Tony’s hand more firmly, yet careful to keep his strength in mind. He couldn’t hear Natalie’s cursing in the mass of laughter and chatter around them, but neither could he see the surprised expression on Tony’s face, eyes wide and disbelieving.   


 

As his cheeks heated up, he was just glad Tony didn’t understand German.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/23112.html#cutid2)  
> Beta: freakydarling
> 
> Translations:  
> ‘Blöde Amis!’ – ‘Stupid Americans!’ (‘Amis’ would be a short form for ‘Americans’ and is considered pejorative in most cases)  
> Topf – pot   
> Jedes mal das Gleiche. – Every time the same.   
> Mexikanische Getränke – Mexican Drinks  
> Nimm deine dreckigen Pfoten von ihm! Er hat schon jemanden! – Get your dirty paws off him! He’s already got someone!


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard to see in the dim light and Steve was painfully aware of the similarity to yesterday’s situation as he made his way through the mass of people, looking for Tony. He dodged a tray filled with glasses of sparkling wine, avoided the elbow of one particularly enthusiastic business man and politely declined around five dance propositions before he finally laid eyes on Tony again. The man just stood there, high glass in one hand and the other busy flying gracefully through the air, underlining his words, surrounded by a cluster of people and looking so utterly at home in this place that it made Steve’s stomach turn just a little.   


 

Now that he’d found Tony, he wasn’t sure what to do. Originally he’d thought to just walk over and talk to him, but with all these people around… Laughter elevated from them, and when Steve looked up again, he could see the admiring gazes that the ladies (and more than a few men) shot Tony, touching him lightly on the arm with gloved fingers or clasping him on the shoulder with a loud exclamation. The way they were all so entirely focused on him made Steve wonder briefly, letting his own focus wander back to Tony. He was dressed in a very formal black tuxedo tonight, hair held in place by a few well chosen sprays of hair gel and goatee trimmed to perfection. But it wasn’t any of those superficial things that captivated his audience, Steve realized and found himself smiling in the slightest way. No, it was his proud stance, the elegance of his every movement, the precision of his words and their rich tone; it was the very essence of Tony Stark that enthralled them.   


 

“Noch ein Bewunderer von Herrn Stark?” The soft voice caught Steve’s attention and he turned slightly to find a woman in her fifties, wearing a dark blue velvety dress and with her grey hair done up to a complicated knot, observing him. What threw him off was the way her eyes were gleaming, mischief so clear in them, they could have belonged to a five year old.   


 

“Excuse me?” Steve brought out lamely.  


 

The woman chuckled and held out her hand, swiftly switching to English. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there were more international guests here this evening. My name is Martina Huerkamp.”   


 

“Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Frau Huerkamp.”  


 

Her elegant eyebrows arched as he shook her hand. “It’s _Doktor_ Huerkamp, actually. You’re not a business man.” It was a statement rather than a question.  


 

Steve smiled sheepishly, resisting the automatic wandering of his hand behind his head. “No, I’m just accompanying someone.”  


 

“I would have never guessed you were Mr. Stark’s plus one.” The sharpness in those wise green eyes lessened, but Steve couldn’t help but get the impression he was being mocked.   


 

“Well, I am,” he muttered, sounding too defensive even to his own ears.  


 

“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to insult you. You could even see it as a compliment.” At his disbelieving expression, she continued, “You just don’t look like the… wie sagt man… oh, yes, _boy toy_ , one would expect Mr. Stark here to bring to this kind of event.”  


 

The woman outright laughed at him when his jaw dropped open. He missed old fashioned, conservative and uptight old women. What had happened to them? Did they all die with the end of the war? “I’m… I’m not a… a…” He couldn’t even bring himself to repeat those words in front of a lady.   


 

“No need to get so flustered, boy,” she squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring manner. “I wasn’t trying to imply you were. But look at everyone else here, all having some status symbol dangling on their arms.”   


 

“You don’t,” Steve observed which prompted Dr. Huerkamp to laugh again.   


 

“I don’t need one of those. And my husband wouldn’t be too thrilled about it.” She patted his shoulder for a bit longer before her gaze caught up with her hand and she let it drop back to her side. “But Mr. Stark always has at least one woman at each side. What did you do to tame him?” The mirth in her eyes took the sting out of her words, but it was clear this kindness wasn’t directed at Tony.  


 

“He’s really a nice person. And I’m not in a relationship with him,” he added, modern business woman or not. “I’m just here to look after him.”  


 

“If you say so.” Steve wasn’t sure at which part of his statement that was aimed. “But if you’re here to _look after him_ , you should probably hurry, because I can’t see him anymore.”  


 

Steve turned his head so quickly, the protesting crack of his neck made Dr. Huerkamp wince. With some effort, he held the cursing back (as he didn’t curse often, it wasn’t too difficult a task) when he saw the little crowd had dispersed, Tony, once again, nowhere to be seen. “I’m sorry, Dr. Huerkamp. I’ve got to—”  


 

But the woman just shook her head, dismissing his apology. “That’s quite alright. I should get back to the business side of this evening anyway,” she nodded briefly before taking a step sideways, but just when Steve was about to search the too big and too winkled room, she said, “He looked quite troubled earlier. Maybe he has simply excused himself from all the festivities for a bit,” she nodded towards the far corner of the room and left.  


 

The area she had made him aware of was far less crowded, a fact Steve attributed to the many open doors, all leading into a giant garden (or a small park, depending on your point of view). He strode out into the green, pleasantly surprised by the mild spring air and the general absence of guests. The only person he could make out was half hidden by a weeping willow. As he came closer, a smile crept into his features. It was Tony, leaning heavily against the trunk, his eyes closed. The glass from earlier was still in his hand, still full and slightly shaking.   


 

“Tony?”  


 

The man jumped, losing his hold on the glass and letting it fall to the ground. He looked up to Steve with wide eyes for the briefest moment before his features fluidly slid into a mask of casual happiness and soft annoyance; the expression an old acquaintance would wear upon unexpectedly meeting a forgotten friend in the middle of the street. Steve would have been fooled if it weren’t for the rapidly emptying glass at his feet. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”  


 

“It wouldn’t have been sneaking if you hadn’t been hiding.” He took the last step towards him in order to lean next to him, his eyes never leaving Tony’s face. “What are you doing here, anyway?”  


 

“Fleeing from all the blondes?” Tony tried, before exhaling loudly. “Though it doesn’t look like I was very successful. You’re really persistent.”  


 

“You would’ve had your peace for a little longer if a nice lady hadn’t given me a tip where you might be. A Dr. Huerkamp?”  


 

“Oh. Her. Yeah, I’ve met her a couple of times. She’s friends with Pepper. And one of the wealthiest women in Germany.”   


 

Which explained some things. And opened up more questions. They stood in silence, Tony lazily rolling the glass with his foot. “Is that why you came out here?” Steve asked, nodding downwards.  


 

A husky chuckle reached Steve’s ears. “At some point the waiters and guests realize you’ve been holding onto the same glass for hours and begin asking questions. Fucking hyenas,” he muttered and Steve couldn’t help the little smile. Of course, this was serious, but it was nice to hear Tony didn’t particularly care for all those beautiful people in there either. He nearly missed it when Tony started speaking again, his voice only a low hum in the air by now.   


 

“To think I used to enjoy these parties… Used to enjoy all that attention, all that _alcohol_ …” He snorted. “Good thing I’m over all three. You can go and report to Pepper now, if you like. Tell her I’ve been a good boy and kept away from the liquor.”   


 

“Why did you start drinking?” Steve bit his lip as he saw the disbelieving look in the other man’s eyes. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t ask something like that—”  


 

“Are you asking because you want to know _my_ reason or because you want to understand why anyone would do something like that?” Blue eyes glistened sharply in the darkness, making Steve’s skin crawl.   


 

“I—just… you don’t seem the type to…” he stammered awkwardly, wishing fervently he’d thought for just one second before blurting it out like that. _Fantastic way to ease the mood, Rogers_.  


 

Tony watched him closely as he tried to finish that sentence without making the situation any worse. _He doesn’t know_ , Tony reminded himself once again. _He’s not the same and he doesn’t remember any of it_. “I was very… stressed for a time. You’ve heard about the debacle with Iron Man, of course, and maybe you heard about some of the news about the takeover of Stark Industries, as well.” Tony halted, obviously struggling with whether he should say more. A quick glance to Steve and he continued, gaze in the distance. “And I went through a pretty tough break-up only a few months before. Guess I don’t deal well with being the one who gets dumped.”   


 

“Who would dump _you_?” Tony looked like he’d just been slapped.   


 

“I mean, why did she dump you?” The self-deprecating curling of his lips that followed didn’t make it any better.   


 

For the briefest moment, Steve was sure Tony would yell at him for being nosy, to mind his own damn business. He would’ve welcomed the screaming if it meant that Tony wouldn’t look at him like that, so sad and lonely, so entirely… broken.   


 

“He did what he thought was right. There were things more important than me; people more important than me. A lot of lives were lost because of our being together and he blamed himself for that. There… I thought it was more than it actually was. It was my own fault for falling… for getting too attached in the first place, since he was obviously just _living in the moment_ and the moment just coincidentally involved me,” he shut his eyes briefly.   


 

And Steve found himself just staring at the other man, thoughts running wild in his head, a familiar headache slowly stirring to life. “I can’t believe you’re defending someone like that. What kind of person would just leave the one they loved for some higher goal?”  


 

Tony’s eyes snapped back open, alight with fire. “He just did what he thought was right.” It sounded more like Tony was convincing himself than talking to Steve, and Steve was about to say just that when he saw the look on the other man’s face. Desperate, pleading, clinging to the only bit of truth he could bear.  


 

“You must have really loved him,” Steve said, surprised by the bitterness in his own voice.   


 

A few grasshoppers started chirping insistently in the distance as the darkness around them grew heavier, making it harder and harder to make out each other’s expressions. He could barely see the wistful look Tony gave him.   


 

“I did. I loved him more than life itself.” _And back then, that still meant something_ , Tony  added mentally. “Won’t make that mistake again.”  


 

There was something final about these words, betraying the easy smile Tony shot him only a moment later. “Let’s get back to the party. There is still lots of money to raise and you can do your job as a bodyguard for once and keep the waiters away from me.”  


 

Steve nodded, but didn’t move. He stared after Tony and then down at his hands, the five little red half-moons in each palm. At what point had he clenched his fists like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/25984.html)  
> Beta: freakydarling
> 
> Translations:  
> Noch ein Bewunderer von Herrn Stark? - Another admirer of Mr. Stark?  
> Frau – Mrs.   
> …wie sagt man… – …how do you say…


	6. Chapter 6

A deep kiss, accompanied by an amused moan, and suddenly Steve couldn’t see Tony anymore. But the panic was diminished before it could even really start as he felt the cloth of his trousers being dragged down to his ankles, Tony’s hands ghosting softly over his thighs.  


 

He regretted looking down almost immediately. While Tony’s fingers were concentrated on getting him out of his briefs, his eyes were cast upward; the smile made even more lascivious by the long dark lashes he was looking through.   


 

He could feel his cheeks heating up, tried desperately to concentrate on something else, on anything else, so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by coming from just _looking_ at his lover. The chair squeaked beneath him as Tony shifted, balancing on his knees to get closer to Steve’s crotch.   


 

The awkwardness was gone in the very next instant as fingers ran along his shaft lightly, the pressure gradually increasing until they lightly bumped into his abdomen. But he didn’t even register the touch as all too willing lips closed around his length.  


 

Dived forward hungrily, to take him in to the fullest.  


 

It was now Tony’s nose touching his abdomen, Steve’s cock completely covered by the warmth of his mouth. He remained like that, not moving except for the soft flapping of his tongue. Steve could feel the flush spread over his whole body, no longer due to embarrassment.   


 

He was panting already. This would end before it had fully begun, he just knew it. It was impossible to struggle against Tony’s complete attention; his whole being concentrated on bringing him over the edge, to make him lose control.  


 

_ Again.  
_

 

“Tony… I’m…”  


 

It came out raspy and stammered, but it was enough to make Tony pause his glorious assault, drawing back slowly and letting Steve pop out of his mouth with a wet smacking sound and licking his lips like he already missed the taste.   


 

“What?” he asked, voice husky with unconcealed lust.   


 

Steve briefly closed his eyes. “If… we continue like this, we won’t get around to anything else tonight.”   


 

One elegant eyebrow arched at that and Tony grinned, that incredibly smug and confident curling of lips Steve had come to love so much. “Give me some credit here, will you? We’ll have you up again in no time, exactly when _I_ want you to.”  


 

Before he could protest, Tony was on him again and he decided with considerable effort, that he should probably just let Tony have his way with this.   


 

 

Tony was perfect for him. In so many ways, but right now, it was only his mouth Steve could think about. Heat tightening around him, vibrating around him with Tony’s throaty moans, tongue flickering up and down…  


 

And, God, his hands. Never stilling, running up and down along the inside of his thighs, circling his hips eventually, pushing his shirt up even further. Unable to tear his gaze away, Steve just stared down, fascinated by the way Tony’s head bobbed up and down.   


 

So concentrated on the sight, he only noticed Tony’s hand when it was already around him, pumping at the base while Tony’s tongue was on the tip, licking greedily. He would never get enough of this, of Tony.  


 

Without thinking he thrust forward, once, twice, numbers didn’t make sense anymore. He heard his own breathless moan as he buried himself in Tony’s mouth the final time, his whole body vibrating when he came.  


 

***  


The phone rang, making Steve jerk upright in his bed. He was breathing too hard and his head hurt and he was aching and this had felt too real— _oh, my God, he was in trouble_.  


 

Gulping in a few deep breaths of the chilling morning air, he reached for the phone on his nightstand.   


 

“Rogers?”  


 

“Good morning. This is your automatic wake-up call. It is now 6.30. If you wish to get up now, press one. If you want to activate ‘snooze’, please press 2. If you—”  


 

Steve hit 1 and let the receiver fall back into its station. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to calm his breath. He could run miles within minutes and without getting out of breath. A simple erotic dream had no right to make him pant like this.  


 

But it hadn’t felt like a dream.  


 

When he closed his eyes, he could still feel those hands on him, those lips… _Tony’s_ hands. _Tony’s_ lips.  


 

A quick flash of light behind his eyelids and a violent explosion of pain in his head. He needed to get out of bed, out of the room. Somewhere away from this, maybe just a quick jog along the river not far from here… But no. First of all, he needed to take a shower and get dressed.   


 

Sighing one more time, he steeled himself against the cold and threw off the blanket to trot towards the door. It was a good thing the bathroom was only two doors away. The luxury of staying in these new hotels included a bathroom just for him. And, well, Tony, since they were sharing this suite, but Tony wouldn’t be up yet.   


 

Except that he was. As Steve entered the shared living room, he saw Tony’s form, hunched over the desk and pen twitching in his hand. Only the desk-lamp was on, the rest of the room still clouded in darkness. Without thinking, he walked over to Tony, careful to tread loudly enough not to startle the other man.   


 

“Why are you still up?” Tony yawned, not even turning his head. In front of him lay a blueprint for some kind of plane or jet, Steve couldn’t make out the finer details in the dim light.   


 

“Still up? Tony, I just _woke_ up. It’s half past six in the morning! Don’t tell me you’ve been here the entire night? You know, once is an honest mistake, twice an accident, but _three times in a row_? You’ll work yourself to death.”  


 

He could see the answer in the way Tony’s shoulders tensed and the pen finally slowed down. “I didn’t realize it was this late already. Early. Whatever.” Tired, he found his gaze, holding it for a few seconds before dropping to the ground. “… I should probably go to bed.”  


 

Steve smiled and let his hands fall down to Tony’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “You really should.”  


 

Tony glanced at the hands, even as they were already retreating; following them with an expression Steve attributed to the lack of sleep. He watched as Tony made his way to his own room, stretching in the process.   


 

His eyes were still fixed on Tony’s door well after he’d heard the tell-tale creaking of the bed and his head seemed about to explode.  


 

_ He was in so much trouble.  
_

 

***  


“You look kind of absent. Am I boring you?”   


 

Steve’s head jerked upward and he gaped at Tony stupidly. “What? No, I—”  


 

“Well, I should’ve remembered you weren’t big on the whole technical stuff. Let’s change topics then.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and Steve felt like hitting himself upside the head. Repeatedly. Tony had spent the whole day in various meetings, Steve always _just a door_ away from him; a _whole room_ between them. He couldn’t believe no one ever asked how Tony was when he looked like death warmed over; no wonder, after he’d only had five hours of sleep in three days. Frustrated with himself and his general useless attempts at making Tony’s trip more comfortable even in the slightest, he’d spent the time staring down at his marinated beef with noodles, completely tuning Tony out.   


 

“Steve.”  


 

And, he’d done it again. “I’m so sorry.”   


 

Tony couldn’t help but laugh at the crestfallen look Steve gave him. “I just asked if you didn’t like your food.”  


 

“Oh. Sorry.” And wasn’t he eloquent today.  


 

A shake of his head and Tony tried again, obviously making an effort to engage in a longer conversation than ‘Sorry.’ “How’s your head?”  


 

“I… Fine, I guess. The headache’s pretty much gone; just a bit of a lingering pain every now and then.”   


 

“That’s good, then. I was a little worried when you told me about it.” Tony had been worried? Oh, fantastic. So, not only wasn’t he helping, he even added to Tony’s stress. If Ms. Potts knew about this, she would probably come straight over and put him back in his place.   


 

“Have any of your memories come back yet?”  


 

Steve swallowed the initial ‘What?’ this time. He’d more or less gotten used to the enormous mental leaps Tony made sometimes; he had to, in order to be able to talk to the other man at all over the last few days. It didn’t make them any easier to follow, though.   


 

“They’re not really _coming back_ , per se. It’s more like I’m thinking about something and was fuzzy on the details before, and suddenly it’s clear, like there’s never been anything wrong in the first place. But there are some events that really just are missing.”  


 

Tony was fully concentrated on waving over one of the waiters, ordering another water as he asked, “So, what kind of events?”  


 

“Oh, mostly stuff from my last years of war. For example, I remember Bucky congratulating me about punching Hitler in the face, but I don’t remember actually doing it.”  


 

Their waiter came, balancing a black tray on his left hand as he elegantly poured water from the little bottle he’d just brought over with his right, swiftly replacing it with the empty one on the table before leaving again, careful not to disrupt their talking. Tony took a few sips and lowered the glass, absently staring into the clear liquid.   


 

“So it’s just memories from the war, then. Do you… Do you think they’ll come back?”  


 

Steve shrugged, feeling a little awkward about talking about himself the whole time. “The doctor said they would all come back eventually, they just need a trigger. She couldn’t tell me what exactly it would be, though. It could basically be everything, someone re-telling me the events I forgot, a picture of an important moment, something similar happening… anything, really.”  


 

The cutlery and plates clinked softly as Tony put the glass down again. “Did it ever occur to you, that your headaches might be connected to your memory lapses?”  


 

“I guess some of them are. But not all of them, since some things just can’t be connected to my past.” Steve closed his eyes briefly against the flash of images from an all too vivid dream, shifting slightly in his seat to hide his discomfort. “Some times they’re just headaches.”  


 

Tony nodded briefly and, after emptying his glass completely, lunged to the next topic. The rest of the evening was spent talking about old books they’d both read and movies Steve ‘absolutely had to see,’ as Tony informed him with gleaming eyes. It was comfortable, and if Steve hadn’t known it to be simply because of his overactive libido, he would’ve bet his few possessions Tony was flirting with him.   


 

***

  
“There’s really nothing left from… before?”  


 

Steve shook his head, using the action to take in their surroundings a little better. The restaurant owner practically threw them out, stating repeatedly that _they really had to close now_ and _please, Mr. Stark, like I would just sell my restaurant to you so you can talk to your special friend here longer_. Steve had nearly choked on his next breath when Tony had replied with a casual, “Well, we’ll just have to get a room then,“ and a wink in his own direction. Good thing the night was rather cold.   


 

“No, everything got destroyed.”  


 

Tony threw another flat stone at the water surface, huffing as it just sank. He swept a quick searching gaze over the stones beside him, picked one out and tried again. Two hops.  


 

“Have you tried any of the Captain America Museums? I’m pretty sure they’ve got at least some of your stuff.”  


 

“Captain America Museums? Are you serious? Who in the world would want to visit a museum just about me?”  


 

Another stone; three hops this time. Steve began to wonder whether or not there were any ducks in the river and if Tony might just have already killed a few. Then again, the water of the Pader lay surprisingly quiet, except for the little ‘blops’ whenever another stone hit it. “A lot of the Germans, apparently. The only two museums are in Berlin, on the left side of Checkpoint Charlie and in…” he paused for a moment, turning the stone in his hands before picking a different one. “ Bielefeld .”  


 

Steve’s gaze went cold over the water as he heard the name. It came with the by now too familiar dull ache in his skull that most likely meant he knew something about it; or had known something about it in his former life. Didn’t seem to be good memories, though.   


 

“Bielefeld?”  


 

“Yeah. Turns out there was a big weapons factory there, filled with forced laborers from other countries.” Five hops. “You were there. You tried to save them. It all went wrong, since someone had tipped the Nazis off and they took the workers as living shields. A lot of people died that day, but the factory got shut down because of it and a lot of people got to safety with help from the citizens. They didn’t forget who helped them.”  


 

Steve counted six hops, unable to tear his gaze from the rippling surface as he tried to recall his involvement in these events. His headache only intensified. “You know quite a lot about that.”  


 

A dark chuckle, followed by a stone going straight to the ground. “I was interested in the aftermath of that day, is all. You could say it personally affected me, in a way.”   


 

A frown crept into Steve’s features at Tony’s words. How could something like that possibly have affected him? Maybe he’d lost a relative in the rescue mission?  


 

“You really get off on me talking about you, don’t you?” The tone was back to its light, teasing tone; and how could _that_ not have been a sexual implication?  


 

Steve’s head whipped around, but the words got stuck in his throat when he saw Tony. He was sitting on the grass, eyes distantly shining, his head framed by the full moon behind him, shining like a halo and illuminating his elegant features in a way that made Steve lose all thoughts for a moment. He looked beautiful. He looked like…  


 

“An Angel,” Steve breathed, unable to cover the admiration in his voice.   


 

He hadn’t planned for this to happen, to blurt something like that out; but whatever reaction he’d expected from Tony, it wasn’t what happened. Tony stared at him for a second, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ of wonder and the very, very hesitant beginning of a smile.   


 

“You remember?” Just the ghost of a question; it barely reached Steve’s ears and he frowned, not understanding its meaning. And suddenly the moment was gone, Tony’s face closing off as he abruptly came to his feet and turned to walk away.   


 

“Tony?” He shouted after him and then hurried to the other man’s side when no answer came. He was about to apologize as he reached him, a hand nearly settled on his shoulder when he saw the tears in Tony’s eyes, barely held back from rolling down his cheeks. Dumbfounded, he stopped walking, his hand still in midair, just staring after Tony.  



	7. Chapter 7

He hadn’t seen Tony in three days. Which was, considering they were still sharing a suite and Tony couldn’t leave it without going through the common area, quite amazing. He called Ms. Potts when the clock struck six in the evening, by then too worried about Tony to think about how his secretary might take his failure. To his surprise, she’d stayed calm, telling Steve that Tony had attended all of his meetings and that the Private Investigator had nothing out of the ordinary to report (except for the fact that Mr. Stark looked quite stressed when no one else was around).  


 

“Private Investigator? You hired a Private Investigator to spy on your boss?”  


 

Ms. Potts scoffed. “Of course I did. You’re there for when things go really bad, but by now you should know that it’s impossible for just one person to look after him. As soon as something crawls up his ass, he runs. So it’s really for his own good that he’s watched 24/7. He’s even paying the guy.”  


 

Steve doubted Tony was aware of that, but just sighed into the phone.   


 

“What happened between you two, anyway? I thought you were finally getting along!”  


 

“We were… I guess. But then I said something stupid and he turned tail. It’s really my fault, Ms. Potts. I just wish I knew what happened so that I could set things straight.”  


 

There was a rapid clicking on the other end of the line, and when she spoke again, her voice was lowered. “Okay, you don’t know this from me. Tony relocated to Gütersloh yesterday morning.”  


 

“He _what_?”  


 

“Shh. I’m not done yet. I’m breaking a few protocols here and if you don’t make it up to Tony, I might not get my next bonus.”  


 

“If you’re breaking protocol, shouldn’t you be worried about losing your job instead?”  


 

A very unladylike snort. “Like he’d fire me. Now, listen. He’s staying at the Park Hotel, near the station. Tony ordered his driver not to take your calls—man, you must have done something really bad—but I’ll get you a taxi in half an hour. Right now, he’s getting a tour at Bertelsmann’s, but afterwards he’ll be at the ball. You go and catch him there, okay?”  


 

Slightly overwhelmed by the organized chaos, Steve started packing the few things he’d actually taken out of his suitcase. He felt like he was being briefed on a field mission. “How am I supposed to ‘catch’ him, exactly?”  


 

There was a genuine moment of silence and Steve was fooled into believing Pepper Potts had reached her limits. “Forget about the tour; it’ll be over before you actually get there. Go to the hotel, put on the tuxedo and go straight to the ball. There will be a black Audi waiting outside. Understood?”  


 

“Yessir.”  


 

“Was that your attempt at humor?”  


 

Steve found himself smiling; he could understand why Tony would hire someone like Ms. Potts. “No, sir.”  


 

***   
  


“You cut it too short!”  


 

“I did not.”   


 

“Did too!” Tony pointed at the spot behind his left ear—how could he have seen _that_?—where the hair was… well. Maybe a tiny little bit shorter than it was on the other side.   


 

Steve crossed his arms over the chest, careful not to accidentally ram the scissors into his body in the process. “I told you it was fine the way it was but you insisted it was too long. Now you’re blaming me for cutting it too _short_?”  


 

Tony glared at his reflection in the mirror, not bothering to turn around. And, boy, was he sulking. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Tony Stark sulked better than a four-year-old girl with cute blond pigtails. He used it in more target-oriented ways, too. “You’re supposed to be a hairdresser!”  


 

“I’m not a real hairdresser! I’m a soldier!” And just maybe, there was a reason why Jim had laughed in his face when he’d asked to do some actual hairdressing in the salon.   


 

“Well, obviously! I could have done that better if I’d done it myself with my eyes closed!”   


 

Steve bit back a remark and instead just turned Tony in the seat, to have a better look at the ‘undamaged’ side. “Fine, then I’ll just adjust it on this side.”  


 

“What? No!” Tony snapped his head around and flinched when the scissors cut. “Ow!”  


 

Something clattered to the ground and before the pain had fully registered, Steve was already pressing the towel against Tony’s ear. “I didn’t—”  


 

“Did you just _cut_ me?”   


 

“Only because you moved! You’re not supposed to move when there’s someone with a sharp object near your head!” He peeked under the towel. The cut wasn’t that deep but there was a lot of blood. It might be better not to let Tony see it for now, he decided, and pressed the white cloth back onto the wound.  


 

“Well, sorry for trusting you!” Tony stopped with his mouth still half open. This was ridiculous. He was behaving like a child with a temper tantrum. Biting his lower lip, he looked up to Steve...   


 

...Who didn’t know which he wanted to do at the sight – laugh at Tony’s guilty expression or smile at the statement. He opted for the latter. “Don’t apologize for trusting me, Engel.”  


 

***  


Steve awoke with a jerk as the cab driver impatiently knocked against the window.  


 

“Wir sind da, man!”  


 

Blushing a little and feeling tremendously stupid, Steve got out of the car and watched it drive away, having been paid by Ms. Potts in advance. Warily, he turned around to look at the building in front of him. It wasn’t big in standards he was— _now_ —used to, just three or maybe four stories high, but it stood out from the other buildings in its apparent elegance. Striding into the lobby, he was greeted by a man dressed in a cheap black suit who was already introducing himself in broken English and gestured for him to follow, taking his luggage before Steve could so much as raise an eyebrow at him.   


 

Those dreams… after the rather exciting one he’d had three days ago, they hadn’t stopped. As soon as he fell asleep, he found himself in some way interacting with Tony and, after the first two, they weren’t even erotic anymore. Just usual, day-to-day life stuff like eating breakfast together and Tony moaning about his cooking (or rather, the potatoes); the both of them lying on a large old bed, lost in their books while their ankles crossed; a picnic in a backyard where he fed Tony white clover; a domestic fight over who was supposed to do the dishes this evening, when they both knew it was Tony’s turn. Some things obviously were inspired by his real life experiences with the other man, like the nickname— _Engel_ , the German word for angel—he was always using in those dreams.   


 

They felt real. They felt good. Steve always regretted waking up from them, relishing the lingering emotions of the dream until the headache hit. And it hit every time after those dreams—something had to be really wrong with his brain after being frozen solid for nearly sixty years. He would have to talk about it with Giant-Man eventually, or that nice doctor Thor had introduced the Avengers to a few months back.   


 

Rubbing at his temples with a sigh, he stared at the mirror in front of him, looking the tuxedo over. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. But… maybe he shouldn’t go to that ball, after all. His reasons for wanting to keep Tony safe and to stay with him had obviously changed, so maybe he should just call Ms. Potts and ask her to find someone else for this ‘job’. She already had a Private Investigator looking after her boss; it couldn’t be that difficult to find one more bodyguard, right?   


 

__Oh, say can you see,  
By the dawn's early light,  
What so proudly we hailed  


 

Hastily, Steve got the cell phone out of his backpack, giving it a good, hard glare before flipping it open. Green button. There.  


 

“Ms. Potts.”  


 

“Ähm, Mr. Rogers?”  


 

That wasn’t the voice of Tony Stark’s secretary. It wasn’t even a female voice, let alone American, but no one had this number except for her!   


 

“Speaking. Who’s there?”  


 

“My name is Dr. Pfaff. Your – äh – Handynummer was listed as emergency contact.”  


 

“Emergency contact?” What in God’s name was ‘ _Handynummer_ ’ supposed to mean?  


 

“Yes, for one Mr. Anthony Stark. Mr. Stark just had an accident and—”  


 

“An accident? How bad is it? Is he okay? Where is he now?” _Please, no_.  


 

“He’s still at the factory.”  


 

Steve gestured for the driver to lead the way to the car as he ran into the hall, glad to find the man still there, just chatting with one of the maids.   


 

“Can you give me an address?” he asked the doctor, mentally willing the man to just give him the directions.   


 

“Ähm.”  


 

“Look, just—Just give the address to the driver, all right? He’s German.”  


 

The chauffeur nodded a few times and shut the phone, handing it back before starting the car.   


 

“Do you know how to get there?”  


 

“Yes. It’s not far. We’ll be there in twenty minutes, half an hour at most.”  


 

Steve nodded distractedly, gaze fixed on the little phone in his hands. He hadn’t gotten an answer about Tony’s condition.   


 

***  


 

The chauffeur didn’t even have a chance to open his door; Steve was already halfway to the beige and orange ambulance vehicle. The big doors on the end were opened, a small crowd slowly dispersing from the scene. He could see the medics talking, leaning against the side of the car; one of them smoking. No one was in there with the patient. With Tony.  


 

He was running now, making his way through the people faster than any normal man could; but his pace wasn’t the reason his heart was beating so fast. There, on the far end of the metal stretcher…  


 

“Tony!”  


 

… was Tony Stark, looking very annoyed with the world but seemingly fine except for the bandage around his left hand. His eyes widened when he saw Steve coming in his direction and he jumped off the stretcher to get back inside of the building when he was swept up in Steve’s arms, unable to do anything but stay still.   


 

“Thank God, you’re okay,” Steve muttered into black hair, absently running his hands over Tony’s back and arms, through his hair and over his back; every inch of him he could reach, making sure he was alright.  


 

“Steve. Steve!” He ignored Tony’s protests at first, until he noticed the flashing lights around them. The crowd had come back, with _a lot_ of press members and their photographers. Hastily, he let Tony go, feeling his cheeks heat up under Tony’s firm gaze.   


 

“Let’s get inside.”  


 

It took him a moment to realize Tony had said something and another two until he was being dragged forward by a tug on his hand. When he looked down, he saw Tony’s smaller hand closed around his wrist. He couldn’t see Tony’s face and the noise behind them was nothing but that, _noise_. The only thought that occurred to him was that they really should stop dragging each other around and just walk next to each other for once.   


When they arrived in the large hall, all eyes were on them. Steve turned his head slightly, to maybe catch a glimpse of what Tony planned to do about the attention, but to his surprise infamous playboy Tony Stark looked just as surprised as he felt. They needed to decide on _something_ soon; the longer they just stood there, the weirder the whole situation got.   


 

He willed his brain to find a solution. The attendees were all dressed in either tuxedo or gown, a few couples still dancing in the back, minding their own business. His gaze swept over them aimlessly at first, but stopped short when he saw _two men_ dancing together. And for the first time, it was with relief that he remembered that times and morals had changed. His gaze fell back on Tony, now far more secure.  


 

“May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” He asked with a smile, holding out one hand and bending his knee a little. Some of the on-lookers laughed and clapped, some others turned back to whatever they had been doing before. It didn’t take Tony a second to get back in the game as he accepted Steve’s hand with a boyish grin and a tilt of his head. By the time they’d made their way to the actual dance floor, only a handful of people were still watching them.   


 

“You couldn’t think of a different way to get rid of the horde?” Steve shivered slightly at Tony’s lips so close to his ear. Maybe dancing hadn’t been the smartest idea, given recent… developments.  


 

“Why didn’t you tell me you relocated?”   


 

A brief silence from Tony followed as they continued to gently sway to the distant music. It seemed surreal to talk so distantly when they were this close.  


 

“…I snapped. It wasn’t your fault. I just… You said something that reminded me of… _someone else_. I’d rather not be reminded of that person. Because you’re not that person.” His voice grew quieter until Steve wasn’t even certain he’d caught the end of his last sentence.  


 

He waited for Tony to continue, but nothing else was offered as explanation. Steve gave a tired sigh and let his right hand slip a little further down to the small of Tony’s back. He was glad when Tony didn’t tense at the touch. “Then you owe me twice now.”   


 

“What? Why twice?”  


 

“One, because you ran off without telling me why or where to, and two… because I’m rescuing you from all the blondes at this party.”  


 

The laughter that rippled from Tony’s chest took him by surprise. Knowing an opportunity when it presented itself, Steve tried his luck.  


 

“So, I expect you to show me around the city tomorrow. Ms. Potts already told me you have no appointments for the whole day, so you can’t really say no.”  


 

Tony leaned back a bit to look Steve in the eye when he grinningly asked, “Why, are you asking me out on a date?”  


 

He considered it only briefly. And what was there to consider, really? He’d made up his mind about this the moment he’d realized that he felt a little too protective of the other man. There was something about Tony Stark that drew him in, that made it impossible to dream about anything but him and demanded his complete attention. No. He knew better than to pretend he wasn’t falling head over heels for this man, and hadn’t Tony admitted to having had his only serious relationship with a man?   


 

Steve Rogers knew an opportunity when it presented itself, and this one might even allow him to make Tony forget about that horrible man that had just dumped him; and maybe, just maybe, find something better with Steve.  
  
“As a matter of fact, I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/26830.html)  
> Beta: freakydarling
> 
> Translations:  
> “Wir sind da, man!” – “We’re here, man!”  
> Handynummer – cell phone number (Handy = mobile – feel free to wonder about that)


	8. Chapter 8

“This city is kind of… small,” Tony stated as soon as they’d stepped out of the car. Steve was inclined to agree, but that wasn’t the point.  


 

“You’ve seen more than enough of big cities. This one’s homier.” They both pointedly ignored the man in the bright green suit on a bike, screaming that the world was ending as he rode past them.   


 

“Fine. So tell me what your plans are, then.”   


 

The gleam in Steve’s eyes made Tony’s hairs stand on end. He was still debating whether or not it had been wise to accept. Going on a date with a man he once had the most wonderful relationship of his whole life with. The man who send him away without so much as blinking (even though it had been the right thing to do, Tony sternly reminded himself, because what else did he have to hold onto?). The man who didn’t remember any of these things. What were the odds Steve would fall for him again?   


 

“Oh, I thought we’d just have lunch in one of the local restaurants.”  


 

He nodded absently, only half listening to what Steve was telling him about the city. And, more importantly, what were the odds that Steve would either remember everything at some point and get rid of him as soon as possible, or that Steve would not remember but still get tired of him? Still, he’d said yes. It was hard to refuse anything asked with such blunt sincerity, impossible blue eyes shining in hope and something Tony remembered all too well; craved all too much.   


 

The best thing to do would be getting through this date (and he might as well enjoy himself, since it was the last day he had any free time during this trip) and then politely turn Steve down. It wouldn’t be difficult; he had enough experience with letting people know they’d just been a means to entertain himself without actually telling them. Tony Stark, professional playboy, indeed.  


 

And, he was no fool. If he allowed Steve any further into his life, there would be no turning back. Lying to others was easy, but he was all too aware that his love for the other man had never stopped; as much pain as it had caused him.  


 

“… and the artist made these memorial tablets for the Jewish victims. They’re now all over the city and they’re called _Stolpersteine_ , which means ‘stumbling blocks’.”  


 

Tony blinked and tried to make a connection to the last thing Steve had said. At his expression, Steve just blew out a breath, smiling sheepishly.   


 

“I’m sorry if this is boring you. I just find it interesting. All the things that have happened after the war, and the efforts to make amends by a generation that hadn’t even been born when the worst things happened: it’s amazing.”  


 

They’d just passed a handful of stores when Steve stopped mid-step. The concentrated confusion on his face made Tony smile; he’d always wondered if Steve knew how easy he was to read. He’d also always wanted to ask if, maybe, that was the whole reason behind the cowl. Fighting Captain  America would be fairly easy if you could see it on his face when he decided to hit you just that little bit harder and shove you right towards your doom.   


 

“Are you lost?” He didn’t even attempt to keep the amusement out of his voice.   
  


 

Steve glared at him. “No. This is exactly the way Ms. Potts described. Cross the _Berliner Platz_ , take the first right and the next immediate left. Then we’re supposed to be on the square with the restaurant I picked.”  


 

“This doesn’t look like any square I’ve ever seen,” Tony contributed helpfully. And he was right; they were standing between a very small parking lot, the back of a drugstore and an erstwhile white wall now plastered with everything from German variants of “Drink Milk!” posters to an ad for a nearby erotic store. “Maybe we should ask for directions?”  


 

He didn’t even need to hear Steve mutter the “Not after the last time” to know his former lover was thinking about the Natalie-Incident, as he called it by now. He’d never known students to be so creepily easy to excite. But he’d never known Steve to act that possessive either.  


 

“Hah! Take three steps forward, Mr. Stark, and you’ll see I was _never_ lost.”  


 

Tony did as told and saw a beautiful square before his eyes, small boutiques and lively cafés framing the light red bricks the people were hurrying over.  


 

“Of course. You always knew where you were. Captain America doesn’t get lost, after all,” he winked, to let Steve know he was only teasing. “Where is that restaurant you promised me, then? I’m starting to feel a little hungry.”  


 

“Right over there,” Steve pointed to the locale on the corner with comfy looking benches and big white parasols on the outside. It wasn’t warm enough to eat there just yet, so they settled for one of the small round tables inside. The waiters – mostly, waitresses – stumbled all over themselves to tend to their needs.   


 

Lunch was nice enough. They talked about completely irrelevant things and yet Tony found himself focusing on each word Steve said, paying far more attention than was actually needed. Usually he would be sketching an enhancement of the latest armor on one of the napkins by now, only half-listening to his partner while seeming very interested. There were advantages to multitasking; even on a date. But not on this one. This one was special, after all.   


It would be the last of its kind.   


 

And it was easy enough to concentrate on what Steve was talking about. The other man didn’t know it, but he had a very unique way of talking, accenting words slightly different from anyone else Tony knew, using his hands in a completely unconscious gesture to illustrate them and making them come to life. Leaders and Religious-Fanatics had similar ways of talking, luring people in for their purposes. Power might corrupt, but Steve Rogers was so blissfully unaware of his talents, it was just pure joy to be able to listen to him.   


 

They walked and talked until they were back in front of their hotel, the hundreds of lights in the building illuminating the slow twilight without stealing its magic. It’s funny, Tony thought wryly to himself, how they both stopped in their tracks when they arrived here. Like there was no more reason to talk, now that their date was over. There isn’t for you, a stern voice inside his head reminded him. He shot Steve a sidelong glance, waiting for a cue how to end this date, this everything.  


 

Steve looked back, hesitated for one visible moment and then smiled. “We could go up and talk a little more,” he suggested, no ulterior motive in mind. It was all the cue Tony needed.   


 

“Ah, thanks, but… no. I’ll just go back to my room and get back to work.” Steve looked like he wanted to say something and Tony hurried to continue. “This was nice and everything, though.” There was nothing negative in his words or tone, he kept them light, and yet it was as clear a dismissal as Steve had ever heard. Tony Stark was turning him down at the door step, more or less literally.   


 

He blinked stupidly at the other man. “But… why?” he asked weakly, aware of how it must sound. Everything had gone so well, he’d been sure Tony had a good time and also, maybe… maybe Tony had shown interest in him. He wasn’t too perceptive with these kind of things, but it seemed clear. They had chemistry. It couldn’t just have been him.  


 

Tony shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “Come on, now, Steve. You’re a decent guy, you’re just not—my kind of guy. Mostly because my kind of guy is mostly female these days,” he added jokingly.   


 

Steve’s gaze was sharp, observing his every gesture, every twitch of muscle closely, looking for the reason Tony wasn’t saying. “Tell me the truth, Tony. I’ve earned that much, at least.”  


 

He felt a perverse satisfaction at Tony’s flinching. It wasn’t that he enjoyed making Tony uncomfortable, but the more time they spent together, the clearer it became that Tony wasn’t always completely honest with him. Most of the time it was situations like this, situations in which he was supposed to say how he felt about Steve. He’d never been clear about it, going from raging lunatic to nice guy over night, treading the line between flirting and being friendly, then suddenly falling to being deeply hurt. Tony was afraid of something; it became obvious to Steve now. It should have been obvious before, but he didn’t see it then, was too distracted by other things; by Tony himself.   


 

“What truth? I don’t want to hurt your ego, Steve, but I’m just not into you.”   


 

“That’s a lie,” Steve suddenly blurted out, as much surprised at it as Tony. It wasn’t arrogance; it wasn’t his ego that prompted the words. It was the look in Tony’s eyes. He couldn’t be aware of it, but it was pure longing and entirely focused on Steve.   


 

He didn’t give Tony the chance to lie again, just leaned forward, catching Tony’s shoulders in a hard grip and dragging him toward him; pulled him into an agonizingly gentle kiss. When their lips met, it felt like a new world burst into existence behind Steve’s eyes. Flashes of images, similar to his dreams, danced in front of his lids, showing him a life that never was and made his head throb in pain. But for just this moment, he didn’t pay attention to them, instead clinging desperately to the present, where he held Tony in his arms, kissing him. And Tony, _kissed back_.  


 

It was the most intense kiss Steve remembered, but he didn’t want a reason for it. He just felt happy when the man he loved pressed forward of his own accord, grabbed for every inch of Steve that he could reach and put everything he had into this. It felt like bliss when Steve realized he wasn’t the only one in love.  


 

He could feel the change in Tony from one second to the other, as the warm body went rigid and the tongue in his mouth drew back, hands unclasping from the fabric of his shirt. It took another second for Tony to pull back entirely, breaking free of Steve’s embrace.   


 

Steve opened his eyes unwillingly to find Tony staring at his chest, eyes wide and panting, skin far too pale in the evening glow of the sun.   


 

“This can’t happen,” Tony said, voice eerily calm. It didn’t fit the image he made right now.  


 

It wasn’t what Steve had expected after Tony had finally given in and something inside him snapped at the retreat. Enough was enough.   


 

“You know what, you’re right.” Tony looked up, startled at the harsh tone and volume. “This can’t happen, because you don’t let it happen! It’s obvious you want this; if it wasn’t before, it is after you kissed back! Why can’t you just admit you’re falling for me, too?”  


 

“I’m not—”  


 

“You’re a coward, Tony Stark. A coward afraid of love and being hurt again, just because you’ve gotten burned once! How long do you plan on bemoaning the guy who dumped you?”  


 

Tony was shaking visibly now, if possible even paler as he raised his hand to point at Steve when he spoke, his voice trembling as much as his body. “You—you of all people have no right to call me that! You have no right! I was wrong; you haven’t changed at all!”  


 

He turned on his heels, ready to storm off, but Steve gripped his shoulder tight, spinning him back to face him.   


 

“Let go of me!” It was a scream, panicked and high pitched, drawing the attention of the few people around them who hadn’t already been watching them. Taken aback, he let go and Tony didn’t waste any time to leave him standing where he was.   


 

After taking a long walk to calm down, he finally went back to his own room. Steve found an envelope sitting on his bed; containing a single air plane ticket on a commercial flight back to  New York , booked personally by Ms. Potts, valid for tomorrow. 


	9. Chapter 9

As Steve walked through the glass doors and into the wide lobby, he could literally see the moment the receptionist spotted him. It wasn’t exactly difficult to tell, since she stood up immediately, yelling over the heads of countless busy Stark Enterprise employees.  


 

“Mr. Rogers, you still can’t go up!”  


 

Steve didn’t bother to shout back, but calmly came up to her desk, placed his hands on the top and looked her squarely in the eye.  


 

“I’m here to see Mr. Stark, please.”  


 

His opposite sighed deeply as she sat back down in her chair. She actually covered her eyes with one hand before she started talking again; her voice a monotone echo of what she’d told him every time so far.  


 

“I can’t let you go up, Mr. Rogers. I’ve got a specific order directly from Mr. Stark’s personal secretary not to let you anywhere beyond the lobby. Mr. Stark isn’t going to see you, isn’t going to take your phone calls, and he also isn’t going to make an appointment with you in the future. Please, just accept that?”  


 

Her tone was pleading towards the end, and Steve felt just the slightest bit sorry for her. She was just following orders; if she were to let him see Tony, she’d probably lose her job. He was distracted when one of the older ladies laid her hand on the receptionist’s shoulder and squeezed gently. When she looked up at him though, there was no trace of gentleness to be found in her face.  


 

“He’s not going to see you. We’ve told you that for the last two weeks; it won’t just suddenly change! And even if Mary did let you into the elevator, you would never get through security on the upper levels.”  


 

Steve drummed his fingers on the counter, glaring at the women in front of him. It might not be their fault that Tony was refusing to see him, but they sure as hell weren’t helping, either.  


 

“Just let me—”  


 

“Look, Mr. Rogers, he isn’t even in today. Hasn’t been for the last few days, actually. For all you know, he’s somewhere in Thailand buying a new plane right now!”  


 

The girl looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment. It took him a moment to see that she wasn’t looking at him, but instead watching someone or something behind him. He realized this a second before he heard the click-clacking of high-heels on the marble floor, getting louder by the clack. He was only mildly surprised when Ms. Potts entered his field of vision as she stepped up to the counter on his left.  


 

“I’ll be taking this from here. You get back to your regular work. You, come with me.” She turned to him at the last order, but only for a quick and dispassionate glance before she stalked away again, Steve close on her heels.  


 

He was surprised when she turned a sharp right before the elevators and entered a room, but followed nonetheless. This was more progress than he’d made during all the last times he’d been here combined. He still regretted it for just a second as the secretary slammed the door shut behind them, making the huge windows on the opposite wall clink in dismay. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke coming out of her ears as she faced him, hands already on her hips.  


 

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re harassing the staff! One of the interns already asked me to transfer her to another level of the building because she was afraid of the madman coming in here every day!”  


 

He didn’t get to do so much as open his mouth in protest.  


 

“Tony doesn’t want to see you and I sure as hell won’t let you see him after what you’ve pulled! If I’d known before, I would’ve never allowed you anywhere near him in the first place! You’ve got Tony and his completely misplaced trust in people and his belief in second chances to thank for that. He’s got so much brain and yet not a single thought is wasted on his self-preservation.”  


 

Steve blinked at her in mild confusion. That… didn’t make much sense. Yes, he’d kissed Tony and Tony had been very, very upset about it, but it didn’t justify this level of isolation. It didn’t justify this level of anger from his secretary, either.  


 

“I just kissed him for God’s sake! And you should rethink your views on the topic, because your boss didn’t just _let me do it_ , he kissed back!”  


 

Pepper openly gaped at him. “You kissed him? After what you’ve done to him? What kind of a sick bastard are you? He didn’t even tell me that!”  


 

“And here I thought people weren’t as judgmental anymore!” He stopped, replaying Ms. Pott’s words in his head. “Wait. After what I’ve done to him?”  


 

But the redhead didn’t seem to have heard him; she had gotten too fired up by now. “You’re supposed to stand for everything good in this country! An icon! A role model! I still can’t believe it was you. I still can’t believe he didn’t tell me the most important part, but of course, he didn’t want your fucking _memory_ to be stained by something like _that_. After he’d come back, he just told me the short version. The version without all the important details. I didn’t even know it was you until he called from Gütersloh!”  


 

She heaved for a few short seconds, getting air into her lungs to continue. Steve was far too perplexed to use the opening and defend himself. He wasn’t sure how he could have, given that he wasn’t even sure what he was being accused of. “How could you do this to him? How can you _still do that to him_? Didn’t you get to know him at all in those months? He loved you so much and you just went straight ahead and broke his heart. As if having a _real_ weak heart wasn’t enough!” Her eyes were a fiery green when her gaze bore into his eyes. “I bet you enjoy the irony, don’t you? How cruel do you have to be for this! He’s stopped coming into work because he’s afraid to run into you here. Why can’t you just finally leave him alone? If you’ve ever felt anything for him, then, please, go away. Wasn’t breaking his heart once enough for you?”  


 

Steve just stared at her. She had to lean against the wall, the freckles on her cheeks meanwhile invisible against the flush and her eyes bright. Pepper Potts took everything concerning her boss very personally, but after having seen him break down in his office only a few months ago and not being able to do anything to help, to see how he carried his grief around with him, to see how it dragged him down and changed him; it had been too much. She stayed upstairs when she’d heard about Steve Roger’s being in the lobby for the first time. But every time she saw Tony tense at the announcement, it became harder to do so. Not to mention how much more difficult it had become after he stopped coming in at all, anymore—  


 

And the reason. The reason for the scar on Tony’s hand, the reason for his complete breakdown then, the reason for the tremors in his voice as he’d called her two weeks ago, pleading for her to end this, to get him away from Steve and finally, finally explaining that the person who’d cast him away like trash was Steve Rogers. The reason for everything was standing in front of her now, looking mildly annoyed, but mostly just uncomprehending. He said as much when he finally found his voice.  


 

“What are you talking about?”  


 

“What am I…” she echoed disbelievingly, voice trailing off towards the end. “How can you not know what I’m talking about?”  


 

Steve’s brows furrowed in frustration as he sighed. “You’re just like him. Dancing around something that I’ve supposedly done and shouting about it, but never telling me what it is. Are you going to have an attack of hysteria when I tell you about my memory lapses, too?” He was ready to believe that this was all a game by now, a game played and invented by Tony Stark solely to mess with his head. It was driving him insane, and of course his head had started to hurt at some time when Ms. Potts was screaming at him; he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment.  


 

“Memory lapses?” She frowned at him, trying to make sense of that bit of information. “Are you telling me you don’t remember any of it?”  


 

Slowly but surely, Steve could feel his sanity and calm leaving him. “Don’t remember what? What am I supposed to remember? I only forgot things from my old life; it has nothing to do with Tony. Or you, for that matter.”  


 

But Pepper wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead focusing at a spot on the carpet, gaze distant as she was mumbling to herself. “That’s why he gave you a second chance. Oh, Tony, why didn’t you tell me about this, you idiot?” Her eyes went up, the fire in them extinct. “Why didn’t he tell _you_?”  


 

“Tell me what?”  


 

The secretary watched him for a few more seconds before she obviously made up her mind. Pushing herself away from the wall, she moved over to the armchairs in the middle of the room, gesturing for Steve to do the same as she heavily sat down.  


 

As she began to talk, she could sense the tension slowly leaving her opposite, only to creep back in when she reached the point of Tony meeting Captain America in the past. She told him all she knew, everything Tony had told her and added things that only made sense now. At first, Steve just narrowed his eyes, disbelief clearly showing in them. But as she went on, told him about the city they’d been in, about the little flat with the backyard (she’d only ever heard Tony mutter about it when he’d been too drunk to care about his words anymore, but it seemed real enough), she could see the change in his expression as it went to skeptical and then, with a hand massaging the side of his temple, his eyes widened and his head snapped up, mouth slightly ajar. But he never interrupted her, listened closely to every word she said, as if it confirmed something he’d never even thought about, but explained every question his mind had ever phrased. When she was done, he stood abruptly, staring right through her when he finally spoke.  


 

“Where is he now? I need to talk to _him_ about this.”  


 

Pepper hesitated for only a heartbeat before she answered. “I really don’t know.” She frowned as she realized Steve wasn’t just looking through her, it seemed more like he was having trouble with his eyesight, blinking rapidly against something and not focusing on anything around him. “Do you remember?”  


 

Steve shook his head, but as he turned to go, she wasn’t sure if it had been as answer to her question or a gesture of disbelief. And for the first time in many years, Pepper Potts was at a loss for words as she followed the retreating back with her eyes.  


 

She needed talk to someone about this; hear if she had done the right thing by telling Steve. Maybe Happy was still in the building.  


 

***   


 

_ “Look out!” Cap didn’t have the time to even turn around as the stranger had already tackled him to the ground. He was ready to do what was necessary as he felt the mud splash up around him, but then there was gunfire and the stranger’s head above him sank onto his chest. The stranger had saved his life.  
_

 

_ “Mr. Stark, I just told you what has happened. And you are in my apartment in Bielefeld.”  
_

 

_ “I’ve never seen a sky like this.”  
_

 

_ I say we just enjoy ourselves until you can get back to your time. No strings attached.  
_

 

_ “Use your imagination, Engel. It’s already night in New York.”  
_

 

_ “I miss flying,” Tony murmured into his ear, eyes half closed and dilated.  
_

 

_ “I’m… not from this time. I live some sixty years in the future, where I recently got my hands on a time-traveling device. I was… examining it. Then it went off again and obviously sent me… here.”  
_

 

_ “Please don’t call me that.”  
_

 

_ “What? Angel? Alright, Engel.”  
_

 

_ “People can’t die just because I’m happy.”  
_

 

***  


 

 

The pain in his head was agonizing. He couldn’t see anymore, just raw shapes embedded in too bright colors; barely enough to avoid their physical forms as he stumbled home, hands constantly pressed against his forehead. It all came tumbling back into his mind, not in any order, not all at once, just random bits, words and emotions breathing new life in his thoughts.  


 

From one second to another, it was over. He stood only a few hundred yards away from Avengers Mansion, reality back in focus as he blinked several times. And with the pain gone, clarity came over him. No conscious thoughts of “Oh, it makes sense now,” just a deep understanding of things on all levels. And a revelation:  


 

He had to talk to Tony; had to explain himself.  


 

And as he saw a red and gold glimmer behind one of the Mansion’s windows, an all too familiar chest plate in its centre, he knew where Tony was.


	10. Chapter 10

“Iron Man!” Steve yelled across the hall. His fellow Avenger turned around, the eye slits glowing in red, not even letting him see the blue eyes behind the protective glass. How hadn’t he realized before that he knew that fascinating shade of blue?  


 

“Cap,” came the short, monotone reply; the suit’s amplifier making it impossible to hear any emotions.   


 

“I, um… need to talk to you about something.” Steve waved to the empty bedroom on his left. No one was occupying it at the moment, so it would be fine for them to use. It would also be more neutral ground than his own bedroom at the Mansion, and more private than the conference room. They needed privacy for this.   


 

It should have been impossible to hear the hesitation. “I’m about to leave, maybe we could talk some other time?”  


 

“No!” If he startled Tony by the shout, the armor hid his reaction. “I mean, no, it’s kind of urgent. We have to talk about this now. It’s very important.”  


 

Another moment of hesitation before the soft creaking noises of hinges and joints working together started, accompanying Iron Man’s every move. As soon as Steve entered after the other Avenger, he closed the door and quickly decided to lock it before he faced the gold and red figure again. This… wouldn’t be easy.   


 

“What is this about, Cap?” Iron Man inquired, his words uttered a little faster than usual; making them seem more urgent.   


 

“This is…. This is about us,” Steve started carefully, then decided that tip-toeing around the topic would make this unnecessarily cruel for the other man. “I remember, _Tony_.”   


 

Iron Man didn’t move an inch. He didn’t respond, either. No reaction to show he’d even heard what Cap had just said. Only after a few long seconds, the mechanical voice filled the room again.  


 

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”  


 

Steve shook his head, slowly. “Tony. Take off the mask so we can talk properly, okay? I know it’s you under there, because I _remember_ now. I remember the chest plate. I remember you saying you missed flying. There is no need to deny it’s you.”   


 

Tony didn’t make any move to do so, or to do anything else. He sighed, briefly closing his eyes against the spark of anger in his chest. He had no right to be angry. If he were to let his emotions run away with him on this… There was no telling what Tony would do. Only one thing was for certain: Steve wouldn’t get a second chance for this. This already _was_ his second chance, and no one could be so undeservingly lucky to get three chances.  


 

“Look, I understand that you’re angry at me and hurt. But I didn’t ask you out, kiss you, or fall for you to make fun of you. I didn’t know about before. I did it because I honestly fell in love with you again. Without remembering our past.”  


 

An oddly distorted snort, followed by a dismissive, “Yeah, of course. You always just had my best interests in mind. Even when you cast me away.”  


 

Steve glared at the face plate. “You know I had to do that. You even said you understood it – that it was the right thing to do!”  


 

“It was the only thing I could say! What else was I supposed to think, that you just decided I wasn’t worth your time anymore so you got rid of me? Because I’m not entirely sure that wasn’t your actual reason!”  


 

Automatically, Steve took a step forward, raising his finger in warning. It was shaking ever so slightly with the effort of holding back. “It _was_ the right thing to do! People died because I wasn’t paying full attention!”  


 

Tony mirrored his step forward, the volume of his voice rising. “And so you decided I should be punished for that? It’s not even true! The reason the raid didn’t go as planned was because someone tipped the Nazis off! You know that!”  


 

Steve’s hands clenched into fists at his sides at the unnervingly even tone in which Iron Man was speaking. Something was coming apart inside of him and it was easily cutting through his control; replacing it piece by piece with the intense need to shake sense into his opposite and make him _just understand_. “But I didn’t know it back then! If I had known that, do you really think I would have sent you away? Have you any idea how hard it was for me to make that decision? To give you up?”  


 

“Oh, I’m sure it was hard on you. Having no one to play with you anymore.”  


 

“ _Take that goddamn helmet off_ , Tony!”  


 

It didn’t take a second before the helmet crashed into the wall, leaving a dent in the otherwise unstained deep yellow wallpaper. Tony’s face was now finally visible and contorted in anger, black hair plastered to his forehead. Steve had never seen him like this. The expression would have fitted Thor when he let thunder crash down onto earth, but not Tony. The thought only entered his mind for a split second, pushed back immediately by his freed wrath.  


 

“I didn’t want to do it, you have to understand that! But lives were at stake every day, every time I took on a mission, every time I went into the field. And lives were lost when I didn’t! You met me while I was on an undercover mission, but what would you have done after it was over and I had to get back into the offensive fight? I couldn’t possibly have taken you with me. You’re not made for a world with war in it, Tony. I had to live like that, but you didn’t. You never belonged into the past! You belong here, where everyone knows your face and you can pave the way for the future. It was for your own good that I send you back!”  


 

The steady, deep voice cracked on the last word and he palmed his head at the hurt and unbelieving look on Tony’s face; forcing himself to stop talking and trying to justify what he did when he knew perfectly well that even if what he said was true, it didn’t help at all. It only worsened the situation and possibly hurt Tony even more to be patronized this way. Christ, he’d lived with this man for months, had spent time with him again over the last few weeks. How could he still not know him?   


 

“I’m sorry,” he finally rasped out. “I shouldn’t have done it like that. I should have told you before, I should have explained to you what was going on, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have betrayed you like that. I’m sorry, Tony. I really am. I never meant to hurt you like I did, I love you too much to do it on purpose. But I’m also enough of a fool to still have done it.”  


 

He heard Tony’s breath hitch in his throat, even as his own seemed to have left him completely as he stood there, head still cast down and face covered by his hand as he tried to force air into his lungs. The silence stretching out over them lasted for long minutes, during which neither of them said anything. As Steve finally gathered the will to look up again, he saw Tony staring at him, face blank in a strangely agonized way. Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze not leaving Tony again.  


 

“What now?” he said quietly, the question spoken in honest wonder. He had no idea where things would go from here, _could_ possibly go from here.   


 

Life flickered again in Tony’s eyes at the words and he lowered his head, unable to meet the intense blue of Steve’s. “Now nothing.”  


 

_ No.  
_

 

“Tony, please. We have to resolve this _somehow_.” He took another deep steadying breath before he continued. “I told you I loved you. That’s the truth. I loved you in the past and I fell for you again in this time. And you feel something for me, too.” It wasn’t kindness that stopped him short of repeating what Tony had said to him at the now distant-seeming fundraiser.   


 

_ “I did. I loved him more than life itself.”  
_

 

It was the addition that had followed afterwards.   


 

_ “Won’t make that mistake again.”  
_

 

At first, when Tony answered, he was incredibly glad he didn’t deny it. His reply was simple, but stung with an intensity only truth possessed.  


 

“I don’t trust you anymore.”  


 

Steve found himself closing his eyes again. “And I understand that, but… We’ve been brought together under impossible circumstances twice. I can’t count on a third time when I fail again. Please, just tell me what I can do to make you trust me again. I’d do anything.”  


 

“Just…” Tony’s shoulders slumped the tiniest bit, making him seem oddly fragile in the most powerful weapon on earth. There was just a man inside that suit. “Leave me alone. Go your way, fight your fights, but stay away from me. At least for now.” He sounded exhausted, tired; no will left to fight. Steve’s heart ached at the defeated tone, but he couldn’t do what Tony asked of him. It was the one thing he couldn’t do. Of course Tony would ask for the impossible.   


 

“No. No, that wouldn’t help. I can’t prove anything to you if we go separate ways now. I made mistakes in the past, I already admitted to them. But I’ve changed, Tony; the world changed. If you want me to promise you, I’ll promise I’ll never leave your side again, no matter what happens, no matter who calls for me.”  


 

Tony’s eyes met his for the first time today. It seemed to have been so much longer since they’d last seen each other; really seen each other. Steve couldn’t help but stare back, taking in the man standing there: a hero, his friend, his partner, his love. Iron Man. Tony Stark. His Angel. They all were the same person, and it was only now that he really understood this. On an intellectual level he had known, had realized it, but it was then that they all became one in his mind as well as his heart.   


 

“You can’t promise that. I don’t want you to promise that. Do you honestly think it would make me happy if people died for my selfishness? Or that I would want to take the most important thing from you?”  


 

“Then what do you want?” He felt exhaustion come over him, but it was the weary kind that cut the unnecessary words out of his mind, making him come straight to the core of what he needed to say.   


 

“I don’t know,” Tony whispered, still staring at Steve, openly at a dead end, just like Steve himself.   


 

Enthralled by the pleading look in Tony’s eyes, he gently took the armored hands in his, carefully tugging Tony down to his level. He moved very, very slowly. Made sure there was no guessing in what he was about to do, giving Tony all the time and opportunity in the world to turn away. Inches short from the other man’s face, Tony resisted, not sharply or panicked, just a pause to focus entirely on Steve.  


 

“I don’t think I can survive it if you abandon me again,” he breathed out, using the air he shared with Steve to form the words. It wasn’t meant to be dramatic. It was a fact. Steve nodded, taking note of it. He wouldn’t let Tony down again. No matter what the price, everything was worth sacrificing for this. He’d known it would come to this in the past; had realized his angel had become too important for him to continue to fight for a better world when there was only one man he wanted to save it for. He’d feared the intensity of his feelings for Tony and did the cowardly thing in the end, even if it had been for the greater good.  


 

He pulled Tony the last inch and their lips met, a soft fleeting touch only, but the world around him seemed to vanish as his eyelids fluttered shut. There was nothing more important than Tony at the moment. The kiss deepened, after a few seconds – after an eternity – it became a luxurious entangling of breath, tongues and teeth clashing as metal clad fingers buried themselves into Steve’s, making them appear tiny.   


 

They stayed like this for a long time, until it all calmed down, going back to the loving gesture it had been in the beginning. They both refused to break it, as though it marked the seal of a promise, neither. But as Steve opened his eyes just the slightest bit to get a look at the man he loved, he found wide blue eyes looking back at him. He couldn’t shake the suspicion they had been doing so the whole time, but he couldn’t blame Tony. He just smiled softly against the other man’s lips, finally breaking their connection to entwine his arms around the hard form before him. He pulled Tony as close as he could, sharp metal edges biting easily through his clothes and into his flesh even as silky black hair caressed the side of his face when Tony leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder.   


 

He didn’t know how things would go from now on, how they would try to work on them, but as he felt Tony’s lips curve against the back of his neck, he knew they would find a way. Together.  


**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/24611.html#cutid1)  
> Beta: freakydarling


End file.
